Illusions
by GuardianAngel86
Summary: Sam and Dean are after something in Stephensville, Ohio. Soon though, they run into more trouble than they bargained for, as Dean and then Sam suddenly dissappear, can Bobby save them in time? Set in between S2 and S3.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Dean Winchester sighed heavily, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. As usual, this was taking _way_ too long. He glanced at his wrist watch for the seventh time in less than twenty minutes, and then heaved another sigh...

"DEAN! If you huff any louder, you'll wake the dead!" Sam Winchester hissed at his impatient sibling, and gave him an irritated glance from the corner of his eye. He then continued to scan the research materials that he had collected over the past four hours.

His elder brother snorted impatiently, "Yeah? Well, at least we'd have some action...I'm bored out of my friggin' skull!"

Sam ignored his brother's complaint. He'd only heard it a solid _thousand_ times in the past two years that they had been traveling together.

Sam really couldn't blame Dean though… research had never been one of his brother's strong suits…

In fact, it wasn't even on his brother's _list_ of strong suits.

'_However short it might be…'_

Sam grinned as the thought crossed his mind. Dean noticed the look that flashed across his brother's face, but was too busy being bored to care…

"Ohh-kay, dude. That's it, I'm gonna get out of here before I start throwing punches just for the fun of it." Dean stated emphatically as he rolled his neck and stretched his muscular arms in an attempt to ease the stiffness that had settled there.

Sam sighed at the inevitable breakdown, and looked up at his brother, "Yeah, figured that was coming. What are you going to go do?"

Dean's emerald eyes took on a mischievous gleam, and he adopted an impish grin.

Sam groaned inwardly. It was never good when that happened.

"I'm gonna do some…_research_." Dean stated slyly.

Sam cocked an eyebrow at the highly unlikely truth of that statement. He followed his brother's line of sight, and was not all that surprised to find that it landed solidly on the attractive blonde librarian behind her desk.

"Jeez, Dean, do you ever think about anything besides…" Sam paused and he glanced around the small library, noticing a few patrons close by, he chose a tactful approach to the question, "…besides _girls_?"

Sam didn't really need a response, since he already knew the answer, and he really should have seen the barb coming from a mile away…

"Well, _one_ of has to, Sammy. You have your methods, and I've got mine"

Dean grinned as Sam curled his lip at him and mouthed the word "Jerk".

The eldest of the two noticed that the curvaceous librarian was heading towards the front door, and so without giving his usual response, he tossed a parting wave over his shoulder and popped the collar on his black leather jacket, as he headed off to pursue a more…active approach to research.

Five hours later…

Sam glared at the small device in his hands, frustration contorting his handsome features…where on planet earth was his impetuous brother?

Only two hours ago Sam had discovered the key to their hunting hang-up. The boys had been chasing a Chupacabra across three states for the past two months, and although they could track it easily enough, there was one problem. They didn't know how to kill it.

There simply wasn't enough information on the creatures, and so they had tried…and failed to kill the thing several times now. The last time, they had nearly been lunch for the massive beast, so Sam had insisted they do more research before they tried to go after it again.

Now he knew what they needed to know, and Dean had disappeared.

'_Of course…can't ever be easy…'_

Sam had tried to call his brother's cell phone six times, and had only received his voicemail so far.

He decided to try again, and sighed in annoyance as he heard the familiar message replay itself for the seventh time…

"_This is Dean. Leave a message." *beep*_

"Dean, where the heck are you? Look, I've found out how to kill this thing…and it's gonna take some pretty weird stuff. Looks like we might need to call in some favors to get some of it, so… dude, just _**call**__**me back**_, okay?"

Sam snapped the phone closed a little harder than necessary, and tossed in onto the twin sized bed in the small motel room that was the boys' current home-away-from-home. He ran a long fingered hand through his wavy brown locks, and gave another sigh.

Flopping onto the paisley patterned comforter, he grabbed the remote control to the small television and pressed the power button. It came to life with a short electrical buzz, and the younger hunter began idly flipping through the channels. He finally settled on an old black and white station playing classic horror flicks, the current of which was entitled "Night at Terror Mansion".

Sam wasn't all that interested in the movie, but he was beginning to worry about his brother, and he found that it was easier for him to relax if there was some background noise…a by-product, he realized, of falling asleep countless times in his brothers '67 Chevy Impala with Rock and Roll classics blaring through its speakers.

That stuff really used to bother him…but it had become one of the few familiar constants in Sam's highly tumultuous lifestyle. One of the _very_ few.

He stretched his tall frame across the too-small bed, and began to go over the mental checklist of materials that they would need to gather for this hunt as the cheesy movie played out in the background….

_Copper spikes, ground cinnamon, rose oil, lambs blood…_

He cringed as he recalled that last item, and he could only imagine the look on Dean's face when he told him about that one. "Man. That one's going to be fun to track down…" he gulped, "…and collect."

Neither brother had a real problem dispatching the evil things that they hunted, although Dean was a little more of a natural at it, but neither brother really liked to kill non-evil living things…especially animals.

Speaking of Dean and tracking things down, Sam realized that his brother had now been gone for nearly six hours, and without so much as a text message. Sam picked up his cell from where he had tossed it earlier and cast it a pleading glance.

'_Come on, dangit…ring…please ring…'_

The device remained stubbornly silent, and Sam decided to give his brother one more opportunity to pick up.

"_This is Dean. Leave a mes-"_

Sam snapped the phone closed once again and ground his teeth in frustration. There was obviously no point in leaving another voicemail. Dean would never be gone this long without letting Sam know he was okay….something was wrong.

Sam chewed on his lower lip as he decided what he should do next. He flipped open the phone once more, selected the number, and punched the 'send' button.

"_Hey, sorry I can't get to__the phone right now. Leave your name and number and I'll get back with ya." *beep*_

"Bobby, its Sam. Listen, we're on a hunt in Ohio, near Stephensville. We ran into some trouble with it, and Dean went off with some chick, and now he's been gone for a while ….I think he might be in trouble. Look, Bobby, if you haven't heard back from me by tomorrow, come looking for us. Thanks."

Sam hung up the phone and stared at it for a long moment. Seemed like no one wanted to answer their dang phone today. "It's going to be a long night…"

He quickly turned off the television and grabbed his pearl grip .45 off of the small table next to the door. He flipped off the lights, checked the salt lines around the windows, and cast a last worried glance around the tiny, hideously decorated room…

The door latch clicking in place was the last sound that would be heard in it that night…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Robert Stephen Singer wiped his calloused hands down the sides of his faded and torn blue jeans in an attempt to remove the greasy remnants of the oil change he'd just given the 1993 Mazda sitting on the car lift in front of him.

It had seemed like ages since Bobby had had a real chance to tinker with his old cars that lay strewn across his front yard, and he was glad of the reprieve…even if it _was_ nearly midnight.

His crooked smile peeked out from behind his short graying beard, and bright blue eyes sparkled beneath the brim of his well worn baseball cap. He glanced at his watch once more to convince himself that the initial time had indeed been correct.

"Ha! Done in under ten minutes!" Bobby placed his hands on his hips in triumph, "Looks like Dean'll have a new record to beat…or _try _to beat anyhow." He boasted in his distinctive southern drawl.

He chuckled to himself at the look he imagined on Dean's face when he told his young friend that he had beaten Dean's 'unbeatable' record for fastest oil changing, and went about slowly lowering the grass green car to the ground.

The old lift whined as the gears held the weight of the car, and as the ageing hunter quietly celebrated his victory, a small jingling noise came from somewhere in the distance, threatening to spoil the moment. The lift paused in its descent, but the noise was gone just as quickly as it had come. Bobby ignored the nagging feeling in his mind that had suddenly appeared with the sound.

A few moments later the noise occurred again, and Bobby began to wonder if the neighborhood kids down the street were rattling his chain link fence again…

And just like that, Bobby recognized the irritating sound…

"Ah, crap! The phone!"

He took off at a sprint towards the old wooden house that lay partially hidden behind the mounds of old cars that stood like pillars all over Bobby's front yard. By the time he had reached the front porch, winded and gasping for air, the ringing had stopped once more, and Bobby could hear a familiar voice floating over the answering machine speakers.

He cursed silently as he heard clearly the last of Sam's message…

"…_come looking for us. Thanks."_

There was a small *click* as Sam hung up the phone on the other end, and the answering machine chirped cheerfully, indicating that there was now one message to be heard.

Bobby gazed ruefully at the machine as he muttered to himself, "What on God's green earth have those two gotten themselves into now?" He tried not to ponder the endless possible answers to that question, and slowly pressed the 'replay' button.

A frown slowly replaced the gleeful grin that had previously been on his face as Bobby listened to his friend's voice, and noted the worry in it. He glanced at the old cuckoo clock that hung on the far wall…it was now eleven p.m.

And suddenly, thoughts of gloating victories were lost in the darkness, and silent worry filled the void in Bobby's mind…

He was content…floating aimlessly through dark warmth. No painful memories to deal with here, no relentless demons chasing after him, no little brother to constantly worry over…just peace and quiet.

Well…until the relentless pounding in his head began anyway…

It started as a slow throb in the bridge of his nose, but quickly escalated to jack-hammering behind his eyes.

"Oooh….m'…'ead…"

Dean heard his own voice from a distance as he moaned the complaint from his state of half consciousness, and tried his best to slip back into its inky depths.

'_C'mon Dad…five more minutes…'_

Unfortunately, the construction workers in his brain had other plans. Slowly, Dean relented to the pull of the waking world as it clamored for his attention once again, and as he did, he became acutely aware of the pain that was presently drilling a hole through his skull.

'_Man…been a while since I got __**this**_ _wasted..'_

He attempted to raise a hand to his forehead and assess the damage, and was surprised to find that his limbs refused to obey his commands. He then tried to open his eyes and see what was hindering his progress, and was even more surprised to learn that they, too, were not in the mood to cooperate.

"_What the?…did Sam glue me to the bed? Oh, he's so gonna pay…"_

But that didn't make any since…he was sitting up…or was he?

Panic began to seep under the cracks in his armor, but he quickly reined it in…

'_Come on, Winchester, don't be such a baby!'_

With a start, Dean began to recall the events that had led to his current predicament. Another moan made its way past his lips as the details of the "librarian encounter" swam their way through the fog in his mind.

"Ohh…cra-a-p…sh'…der-r-r-ug…ed…meee…"

The slurred revelation, under different circumstances, might have sounded rather funny to him. But Dean found that being deceived, drugged, and then knocked into unconsciousness while he was helpless to defend himself, was anything but funny.

Dean mentally kicked himself for letting his guard down.

As if that weren't bad enough, Dean also recalled why the woman…Andrea, was her name…had suddenly become so volatile.

Upon entering her apartment, Andrea had promptly sidled into the kitchen to the right, and Dean had stopped dead in the doorway. He had found the contents of the establishment to be rather disturbing. Gruesome paintings of death and destruction adorned the walls, and he had frozen mid-stride as his eyes lit upon the pentagram that hung from the living room ceiling.

"Uhh…Andrea? There anything…about you… that you might have…forgotten to mention?" He had stated haltingly as his fingers brushed the silver handle of the pistol that was hidden in the waistband of his jeans.

Dean was most dismayed to recall that he had failed to assess the fact that there was a second entrance to the kitchen on his left side, and had been equally dismayed when the lovely librarian had leapt out of it and stabbed him in the arm with a needle the size of the Chrysler building.

After that, paralysis had quickly set in, and his hostess had proceeded to monologue for more than thirty minutes about the fact that she was a member of the secret protectors of the man-eating, evil-nightmare-from-the-pit-Chupacabra that he and Sam had been hunting for what seemed like ages. And soon after that, she had played a little golf with his cranium.

And now, he was regretting ever setting foot in the library…again.

As he contemplated his predicament, Dean felt a tingling sensation tickle its way through his fingers and up to his wrists, and was astonished to find that when he tried to move them they obeyed.

Unfortunately, his small stroke of luck ended there, and the rest of his body remained under the influence of the mystery drug.

"Grr…ate. Sam'll…be…fri-i-gg'n… ou'…"

Dean's drunken sounding observation fell on deaf ears, and his prone figure remained mostly immobile on the cold, hard floor.

In the dark, Dean heard a scratching noise…followed by a tiny squeak…and then all hell broke loose…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"This is it. This is _absolutely it_!"

Sam's frustration was evident, as was his lack of sleep. It didn't help that he was having to walk everywhere in his search for his brother's whereabouts.

"I swear, this is the last time I _ever_ let him go off with some strange girl…" Sam paused a moment to roll his eyes at the unlikelihood of that statement. As if.

The younger Winchester had spent the better part of three hours tracking down clues on his missing sibling, and where he might have gone. So far, the most he'd been able to gather was that the librarian's name was Andrea Willis, and that most of her co-workers thought she was weird. She lived in an apartment complex not far from the library, and she and Dean had been spotted grabbing a bite to eat at the local diner, about five minutes from the library.

Unfortunately, that was all Sam had to go on, and so far had turned up squat, searching the parking lots of four separate apartment complexes for the love of his brother's life…the Impala.

Sam was becoming tired and desperate. It had now been nine hours since he had last seen his brother. It was now completely confirmed in Sam's mind that Dean was in trouble…the only question now was how Sam was going to _help_ him if he couldn't _find _him.

'_Some hunter __**I**__ turned out to be…'_

In Dean's defense, Sam had to admit that the young woman had seemed harmless enough, and for all he knew, she was also in trouble. Something inside Sam told him that she was behind his brother's disappearance, but he wasn't about to conclude that until he had more evidence.

He sighed as he walked along the dark sidewalk towards the last apartment complex on his current route, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Being a hunter, Sam had been trained to keep his eyes and ears open at all times…especially if he was alone, so he let his eyes roam around the scenery… as it was at two a.m…and contemplated his brother's predicament.

The youngest Winchester felt a little guilty for his spark of anger at his brother. After all, it had been weeks since Dean had had any real fun. All he had done for what seemed like months was hunting…and trying to keep Sam's mind off of the crossroads deal.

Sam felt the familiar icy fingers of fear grasping hold of his insides at the thought of what awaited his brother at the end of this year…and the pain once again got to the point that he had to think of something else… _anything_ else, or risk losing his mind completely.

Fortunately, he didn't have to try hard.

Sam slammed to a halt on a silent street corner as his mind belatedly registered something he'd seen a few moments ago from the corner of his eye.

He back-pedaled as he frantically searched for the object of his minds attention, and then heaved a giant sigh of relief as he laid eyes on it once again.

He cautiously approached the shiny black Impala that had been partially hidden from view behind a dumpster around the back of the Jade Street Apartment Complex.

Sam allowed a faint grin to slide onto his handsome face, '_trust Dean to hide his baby where only I could find it…'_

Sam knew that his brother held a large soft spot in his heart for the large classic vehicle, and he also knew the real reasons why. Dean would say it was the purr of the engine, or that it was because the Impala was the Zeus among the classic car gods.

But Sam knew his brothers unusual attachment to the vehicle was due to the fact that it was one of the only things that their father had ever given Dean, and it was also one of the only things that they had left of their father, now that he had passed away.

As Sam approached the vehicle, his heart sank ever so slightly at the empty interior. He had half hoped to find Dean and Andrea curled up together in the backseat…however awkward that might have been.

Still, he found solace in the fact that the Impala was parked here, and therefore, he was on the right track. If his car was here, Dean had to be close by.

So, with that in mind, Sam quietly made his way to the trunk of the classic and popped it open with his spare key. He scanned the immediate area before removing the false bottom, and loaded up with the weapons of his choice. He then cautiously made his way to the rear entrance of the complex.

He breathed a prayer of thanks to whoever was listening when he was able to open the door silently and with ease. He slipped inside and made his way to the row of labeled mail boxes just to the right of the stairwell entrance. He read the names until he found the one he was looking for…Andrea Willis, Apt.23. Sam noted that the twenty-third apartment would be on the sixth floor of the complex…

"Of course, can't ever be easy." He repeated to himself for the second time that evening. He glanced longingly at the elevators on the opposite side of the grey-green hall, but he knew that taking an elevator would be a careless move. The words that Dean had drilled into his head from the time he was five years old echoed in Sam's mind…

"_Never give away your element of surprise, Sammy…it might save your butt one day… or mine."_

Sam knew that to the untrained observer, his brother's outward manner made him appear sloppy and full of himself, but Sam also knew that in reality Dean was the most selfless person Sam knew, as well as someone who was the best at his craft…hunting.

Sam gave one last longing glance at the elevators, "Guess that element of surprise will have to save your's today Dean," and then he began the long trudge up the stairs…

The intense tingling sensation was about to drive Dean literally insane, as it felt like an army of a thousand ants was trekking endlessly up and down his spine and across his ribs.

But at the moment, insanity was the least of his worries. Right now, he was more worried about not peeing on himself.

It had been a good thirty minutes since he had regained the use of most of his body, including the full use of his voice.

"H-E-E-E-L-L-P! Sam? Anyone? Hel-O-o-o-o!"

Dean's voice cracked a smidge on that last note, but he really didn't care right this second. He was too busy trying not to be completely terrified.

Dean had also regained the use of his eyelids at about the same time as his voice, but unfortunately, he realized that the lovely librarian had been kind enough to tie him up in complete and total darkness…and now he was hearing the noises in the dark that he dreaded above all else.

The sound of rats.

"H-E-E-E-L-L-P!" Dean rocked back and forth until he was able to get into a sitting position, and was immediately bombarded by the musty odor of old mop, mingling nicely with the sickly sweet odor of lemon pine-sol. He gagged involuntarily as the scents assaulted him.

"Ugh! _Nasty_! How come I always end up in the janitor's closet every time some whack job goes berserk?" Dean stated in disgust, momentarily distracted by the overpowering scents. He wrestled his arms under his rear, and down towards his ankles as he attempted to grasp the small leaf blade that was hidden in his boot.

He found the weapon just as the skittering noises started once more.

'_Oh, God, please no rats…'_

He was able to cut through his bonds in record time, but froze in place as he heard a cacophony of squeaks and chirps from every side…he was surrounded.

Deans irrational fears took hold and overwhelmed him faster than he knew how to handle, and he froze completely, too terrified to move.

He realized at some point that his feet were still numb from the paralyzing drug, but it wouldn't have mattered at this point anyway. He was about to succumb to the intense panic that flooded his senses, but suddenly a voice sliced through the darkness and into his mind.

"_You can't be afraid, Dean, not of anything…"_

At first he was completely confused, and he started to think that maybe he was dreaming, or finally going nuts. The voice spoke again.

"_You can't be afraid, Dean. Sammy needs you…"_

Dean was dumbfounded. He could have sworn that the voice belonged to his father, but John Winchester was dead and burned. It couldn't be…could it?

"Dad?" Dean's voice trembled, and it was unfamiliar, even to himself. Sweat trickled down his face and neck, and he realized that the temperature in the closet was rising rapidly.

"_You can't be afraid now, son. Sam needs you to be brave, he needs you Dean…"_

"Dad? Where are you? What do you mean? Is Sam in trouble?" The words tumbled out of his mouth in a string of bewildered questions, but this time the voice did not respond. Dean realized that he had been so focused on the voice, and the shock of whom it had belonged to, that he had completely forgotten about the rodents that were sharing his tiny dungeon.

He took advantage of the distraction, and heeding the advice that he had been mysteriously given, Dean fumbled blindly toward the door and found it quite easy to hastily jimmy the lock open.

He tumbled out into an empty tiled hallway, and he half-limped, half-dragged himself as hastily as possible away from the janitorial closet. He leaned against the peeling grey paint of the hallway wall, and a shudder worked its way up his spine.

"God, I hate rats…"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Bobby had decided a long time ago that sleeping was simply out of the picture tonight…at least, that was the conclusion after he finished off his fourth cup of coffee anyway.

Sam's semi-informative message had kept him pacing back and forth in front of the phone for nearly four hours. He glanced at the clock for the twelfth time in just as many minutes.

Three a.m. and counting.

Bobby had decided earlier that he would give the boys until seven o'clock to contact him before he jumped in his old Toyota pick-up and headed to Ohio. He had tried to call Dean's cell phone, but had only received his voicemail in reply. He had thought about trying to call Sam, but figured that if Sam hadn't called yet, it was probably because he hadn't found Dean yet.

Bobby paused in his track around his living room, "Although, that boy does tend to attract trouble like a magnet to an iron horseshoe…" The older hunter stroked his beard as he contemplated the thought. He glanced again at the clock, and was surprised to realize that nearly thirty minutes had gone by.

"Aw, hell Singer. You're actin' like a dadgum mother hen!" He berated himself, but found that the knot that had steadily been forming in his midsection only coiled tighter.

He sighed as he forced himself away from the silent phone to pour himself another cup of coffee. The ageing man had taken a liking to these two boys from their earlier years. John would leave them there, sometimes for weeks at a time, in order to hunt something particularly dangerous. As the boys grew older and more experienced, Bobby had seen less and less of them.

Bobby eased himself into his old armchair as he recalled the memories of their usually unexpected visits.

Dean had kept mostly to himself in his father's absence, and had preferred to keep his head under the hood of any number of old vehicles that Bobby had out in his yard. Bobby remembered that Dean would tinker for hours without a word, and he would often find the young man had fallen asleep in the backseat of whichever car he was toying with.

Sam, on the other hand, had been constantly curious about _everything_. He wanted to know what this or that was, how it worked, and why. He preferred to be in the company of his brother, rather than the older hunter, but even at an early age the brothers had learned to read each other well, and Sam had known when to leave Dean alone, and when to approach him.

As the boys got older, Bobby could see that they had retained some of their previous traits, but their personalities had nearly reversed roles. Now, Dean preferred to have someone present at all times, while still enjoying his fascination with automotives. Sam could usually be found in the corner of Bobby's living room with his head buried in a book by himself, and although still curious about much, he would rather ask his laptop than Bobby.

As the memories resurfaced, the older man realized that much of the change had been influenced by death. Dean, as a young boy, had still felt the sting of his mother's death, and it was amplified in his father's absence. Now that his father had also perished, Bobby could see that there had formed a deep seated fear of being alone, hence the need for constant company.

It hadn't been until Sam's fiancé had been murdered by the same demon that killed their mother that he began to exhibit the same emotional withdrawal that his brother had shown earlier, and since the revelation of his demon influenced 'gifts', Sam had begun to withdraw into himself. Bobby noted, probably in an unconscious effort to protect others from himself, however ridiculous that notion seemed to the older man.

The sorrowful thoughts of how unfair life had been for these two once again settled themselves in Bobby's mind for the hundredth time.

He shook himself from his reverie and stole another glance at the clock on his wall…four-thirty a.m.

"Only two and a half more hours, Sam. Come on, boy, call me already!" Bobby's glare bored into the telephone, but the device remained stoic and silent under the tormenting gaze. Once more, Bobby returned to the activity of wearing a hole in his living room carpet, as the clock's relentless ticking grew louder in his ears…

Sam had figured out that something was amok with this whole situation when he had climbed nearly twelve flights of stairs and opened the stairwell door to find himself staring at the first floor lobby, '_How is that even possible?'_

Sam's bewilderment only grew as he dashed up the next flight of stairs, flung open the stairwell door, and found the same row of mailboxes, the same elevators, and the same lobby staring back at him, "Oh great. What now?"

Finally, he decided he'd had enough. He cautiously made his way to the elevator on the opposite end of the hall, glancing around warily. He wasn't at all surprised to find that no other patrons were around at this hour, but now he began to sense that there might be something else in the building with him. After all, this search and rescue was turning into something right out of the Twighlight Zone…which was disturbingly familiar to Sam…

As he pondered whether or not to risk trying the elevator, a thousand scenarios of how horribly wrong things could go if he did, played through his mind in a matter of about ten seconds. For a moment, he considered trying to scale the building on the outside, but found that he preferred the thousand awful elevator scenarios to falling six stories to the concrete below. He _had_ to find Dean, and time was running out…

He carefully pressed the 'up' button on the silver panel near the elevator, and waited for it to open. A red light flashed above the doors and they slid open with a creaking shudder. Sam looked around the interior cautiously before finally stepping inside. He paused for a moment, waiting for the elevator to suddenly plummet, or turn into a giant oven to cook him alive… "I've got to stop watching all those late night horror movies," He muttered to himself as he pressed the button on the inside panel which had a bold '**6**' on it.

The elevator jumped a little as it began its ascent, and Sam caught his breath for a moment. The rest of the ride went smoothly, however, and Sam slowly released his breath, noticing that his heart beat began to slow down a little as well. The digital numbers at the top of the doors counted one through six, and there was a soft chime as the elevator reached its destination. The doors slid open with the same creaking shudder.

Sam's jaw hit the floor at the sight that greeted him.

Palm trees, swaying gently in the breeze, lined the path from the open elevator down to a beachfront, complete with sun, sand…and the _ocean._

Waves crashed on the sandy shore, and Sam blinked his eyes rapidly in an attempt to convince himself that this was all some hugely elaborate prank.

It didn't work.

Four bikini clad women walked into view down the tree lined path, and they waved to Sam, and then giggled amongst themselves when he blushed bright red.

Sam realized that his mouth was still hanging open, and he shut it with an audible *click*, and promptly decided to try and move on. His finger paused over the button marked 'lobby', and then moved up towards the number six again. What would happen if he tried to get to the sixth floor again? Would the doors remain open…or would they close, and take him somewhere else? Maybe to Dean…

Sam pressed the number six, and waited anxiously as the doors slid closed.

At first, there was no movement, and then the lift jolted to a start again, and began to ascend. The digital display, Sam noted, began to count from one to six again, and he felt anxiety begin to well up even larger as it approached the latter number.

The soft chime sounded again, and the doors rattled open, but this time Sam didn't have time to be shocked.

As soon as the doors had parted, Sam knew he was in trouble. His body was lifted off the floor of the elevator and slammed into the steel bar at the back of the small lift. He fought the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him as he struggled to get oxygen back into his lungs…


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Andrea Willis was a normal average girl. She had a normal average build, a normal average height, regular blond hair, and regular brown eyes.

She just happened to be a normal average girl who thought that the giant man-eating creature that terrorized this small corner of the world had a right to live…

…more than anyone else.

She had heard about hunters before. Had known that they existed, but she had never really had the pleasure of meeting one in the flesh.

Until Dean and his geeky sidekick had shown up on her watch.

Andrea had been most enthralled watching the handsome pair gather information on her secret infatuation. She had half expected them to actually be the reporters that they claimed they were…but something about them just didn't scream _reporter_ to her. Being a secret Chupacabra activist, reporters were usually easy to spot…but these two…

As Andrea had observed their research, she had been most dismayed to realize that the younger of the two was actually only trying to discover the means by which to kill her flesh eating charge, and that changed everything.

'_Hunters.'_

The word echoed in her mind. Soon after that she had discovered that the older of the duo seemed more interested in checking her out than any book in the whole place, which was just perfect…an opportunity presented itself.

She had just the thing for these two.

How interesting that she had come into a partnership with an unusual character only days prior to this chance meeting…

How interesting that she would be the first to call in a favor from him…

How interesting that she would get to see firsthand how a Hundun worked its craft…

Dean had decided that, if nothing else on planet earth was certain, one thing absolutely was…it is difficult to walk when you can't feel your feet.

Dean had discovered earlier that the kind Miss Willis had also remembered to relieve him of his cell phone, thus leaving him without an immediate way to contact Sam. He stumbled along the dark hallway, using the ugly grey-green walls as support. He found a corridor with a small window set in it, and was surprised to see sunlight streaming through the glass in bright golden rays. "What the…"

The eldest Winchester knew it had been a while since he had last seen Sam, but he had been certain that it was still the same day…or rather night. But the level of light coming through the window seemed to indicate that it was somewhere around noon, "It hasn't been that long…has it?" Of course, he couldn't be certain, and as he thought about it, his attention was drawn to his stomach as it rumbled for sustenance. "Maybe it _has_ been that long! Oh, man…I gotta find Sam." Dean knew that his brother would be worried sick by now, and was probably trying to track him down.

Suddenly a sickening thought landed squarely in the forefront of his mind. Andrea had known what he and his brother did for a living, she had said so. How? His stomach twisted as he voiced the conclusion… "She saw the research materials that Sam had."

'_What if she'd gone after Sammy? What if she was planning to summon that thing on him?...'_

'…_What if she already had?'_

Food was no longer on Dean's list of priorities. He had to find Sam, and he had to find him right now. His stomach churned as his thoughts erupted into devastating scenarios…_ 'What if Sam's hurt, and I was stuck in some closet?…What if it's worse than that?'_

"Not on my watch!" The thoughts lent speed to Dean, but the drug was still working its way through his system. He cursed silently as his legs simply refused to carry him any faster than they already were. He persisted, pushing his way down the corridor towards the elevator at the end of it, but froze suddenly as the small light at the top of the double doors lit up.

Someone was coming…

The experienced hunter knew that he was in no condition to fend off an attack at the moment, and he would rather wear pink ribbons than allow himself to be captured again…especially if Sam was in trouble.

His eyes darted frantically around the hall, looking for somewhere, _anywhere_ to hide. He saw the large vending machine a little further down the hall, and he would have to hurry if he was going to duck behind it before the elevator doors opened.

As Dean practically threw himself down the hall, his mind registered the sound of rushing water, and he paused in his race for the vending machine out of sheer curiosity. The noise grew louder, but Dean's mind refused to accept what it was hearing as truth. Surely there wouldn't be a giant wave of water careening through the sixth floor of an apartment complex…

At that moment, his thoughts were proven incorrect, as a giant wave of white water crashed around the corner and rushed past the window he had seen the sunlight through earlier. It came at him like a wall, and all he could do was stand there in mystified terror.

Dean heard the soft chime of the elevator doors as they opened at the same moment that the huge wall of water crashed into him. He let out a yell as the water's mighty current tore him from his spot and hurtled him directly towards the open elevator.

There was simply no way to avoid the oncoming collision with the elevator's sole occupant…


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

At precisely 6:51 a.m. Bobby Singer had decided that enough was enough, and screw caution.

The boys were in trouble…_his_ boys were in trouble, and he would rather be stripped naked and dipped in buttermilk before he'd let them go down on his watch.

The rusted piece of scrap that served as Bobby's transportation had thus far clunked its way down the interstate for more than two hours and Bobby was beginning to get more and more anxious about Sam's message.

What did Sam mean when he said that they'd 'had some trouble with it'? Had Dean been injured? Surely not, he'd been well enough to put on the Casablanca. Had Sam been injured? No, if that were so Dean couldn't have been dragged away from Sam's side by wild horses, let alone 'some chick'.

What then? Had they run into problems with the locals? Cops maybe?

Bobby sighed…the possibilities were endless…especially when speaking of the Winchesters. It was a fruitless waste of energy to try and figure it out. The only thing he knew for sure was that Sam had called for help, and that was all he needed to know.

The eastern sky transformed into steadily lighter shades of blue and yellow as the sun finally woke from its absence, and bathed the open road in golden hues.

The rattling of the old truck as it sped along the highway helped to drown out the incessant worried thoughts that tried to worm their way past his wizened reasoning, but as usual, Bobby's stubbornness won out in the end, and his thoughts turned to less worrisome things.

The trees were mere smudges outlining the edges of the highway as the old truck consumed the asphalt by the mile. The weariness that comes with old age and late nights began to seep into Bobby's bones as he drove. He sighed a second time.

"One of these days I'm gonna realize that I'm too old for this crap," He grumbled to no one in particular.

*Skreeeeeee-POW!* As if in agreement with its owners statement, the ancient Toyota decided it, too, had had enough. Bobby cursed fluidly as the steering wheel was almost jerked from his grasp. It was no longer possible to steer the vehicle in a straight line, and Bobby had to pull with all his might in order to coerce the thing onto the narrow shoulder of the highway.

His mechanically inclined mind had already deduced the problem before he had even shoved the door open.

Bobby grunted as he eased down onto the dew soaked grass in order to confirm his suspicion.

"Yup, sure 'nough." Bobby groaned, "Dangit!"

The tie-rod had broken on the front axle, and the vehicle would definitely have to be towed. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, at least not in the same truck he'd started in.

No, he would either have to jack somebody else's car, which seemed fairly unlikely, or he would have to hitch-hike, which was about as appealing to Bobby as getting kicked in the head by a Clydesdale.

But this time, there was no other option. His boys were in trouble, and by God, it was going to take a lot more than a broken tie-rod to keep him from getting to them one way or another.

So, with as much enthusiasm as a man getting audited by the IRS, Bobby walked to the edge of the lonely stretch of highway, and stuck out his thumb.

Sam Winchester was dead.

'_Can't breathe…__**not breathing, Sam**__…'_

Or at least, Sam Winchester was convinced that he was somewhat _close_ to dead.

'…_**need to breathe**__…so cold…'_

He couldn't really be sure…what he _could_ be sure of, was that he couldn't breathe, and he was freezing…or possibly burning. One or the other. It didn't really make much of a difference at this point, because either way Sam Winchester was in deep crap.

'…_hurts so bad…__**need to breathe, Sam**__…'_

…or rather, deep water.

"SAMMY!"

Sam came fully awake with a start, and gasped, simultaneously choking on a lung full of cold water. As he coughed spastically, a fiery stitch of pain erupted across his right side, and he flailed his arms in an attempt to fend it off. He managed to gurgle a groan in between coughs.

"Easy bro, I gotcha. Just breathe easy." Dean, soaked from head to toe himself, had his arms under his brother's, supporting him as best he could in the nearly neck deep water. Sam's shaggy bangs were plastered to his forehead, and water ran down the sides of his face in rivulets. Dean tried his best to calm his brother's thrashing before he drowned them both, "C'mon Sam, _calm down_! You're okay."

The eldest hunter, after coming to temporary terms with the fact that there had been a giant wave of water crashing around on the sixth floor of a seemingly normal apartment complex, in the middle of Ohio, had been rushed head long into the far wall of the elevator.

He had been most surprised to feel something squishy cushion his impact, and had soon after discovered it was the now-nearly unconscious form of his younger sibling. His relief at seeing his brother unharmed by the evil librarian was short lived, as Sam's impact with the steel support bar, along with Dean and a mini tidal wave, had managed to knock the six foot four hunter out cold.

The elevator doors had closed quickly thereafter, trapping the two young men in it with enough freezing water to wash the Impala with for a solid year.

Dean had fished his brother out from under the water as best he could, and had since coaxed his brother to wake up…which was a blessed thing considering that Sam was no lightweight when he was conscious and dry, let alone unconscious and soaking wet.

"Oooh…my side…" Sam groaned again. He had stopped flailing his arms, responding as he usually did to his brother's commanding tone, but the younger hunter's weight was still leaning fully on the elder.

Dean's eyebrows knit in concern at his brother's confession of pain, "Sam, I need you to stand up for me dude…can you do that?"

"Dean? Uhh…yeah, I think I can." Sam said groggily. Slowly he placed his feet firmly under himself and stood as best he could. Turning slowly to his older brother, he asked the obvious question, "Where…where have you been?"

Sam was slightly shocked to see a pink blush spread across his brothers dripping face…Dean was not prone to embarrassment by any means.

"Uhh…well…I sort of got…locked in a closet." Dean murmured. He mentally begged Sam not to ask the next question that he was sure his brother would inevitably ask, and did his best to change the subject. "Let me see your side."

"You got locked in a closet..." The statement sounded flat, like the meaning couldn't quite penetrate the fog in Sam's brain, "…by a chick, Dean?"

Dean cringed, "Look, it wasn't like that!"

Sam gave his brother a disbelieving stare, and immediately regretted it as Dean quickly turned defensive. Dean hated getting caught with his guard down. "She's the friggin' Chupacabra police Sam! She saw the research at the library, it was all a trick! She had pentagrams hanging from the ceiling…and then she jumped me with a needle full of some kind of paralytic drug, I mean, how was I supposed to know she was a psycho? She's a friggin' _librarian_ for pete's sake!"

Sam tried not to laugh…mostly because it would hurt too much, but also because his brother looked cold, wet, and humiliated. Which meant he was rather dangerous to mess with right now, thus, now was _not_ the time to tease him.

He would save _that_ for later.

Without warning, Sam's ribs decided they wanted more attention, and the stitching pain became more of the 'hot knife' kind of pain. He hissed loudly through his teeth, and his knees almost buckled again.

"Whoa! Sam?" Dean's arms stirred the water as he caught his brother around the mid-section, his first instinct to keep Sam's head above water. Unfortunately, that meant they also came in contact with Sam's injured side.

Sam jerked away from the contact, giving a sharp yelp as he did, "Aagh! Jeez Dean…holy crap that hurts!"

"Sorry dude, but pain comes second to drowning." Dean mumbled as he repositioned his hold to his brother's shoulders instead, waiting until Sam had regained his balance before he let go again, "you okay?"

The question wasn't so much about whether or not Sam was okay, since he was obviously _not_ okay, but more so a question of whether or not Sam thought his injury was severe enough to require immediate attention.

"Y-yeah…I think I g-got one or t-two fractured ribs…maybe m-more…'ts hard to t-tell." Sam's teeth had begun to chatter together, both from the adrenaline wearing thin, and the fact that the water had really begun to get awfully cold.

In fact, it seemed colder now then it had been to begin with…

Dean took note of the reaction and frowned. Fractured ribs were one thing, but fractured ribs and hypothermia was another, and that was not something he was willing to screw around with. He turned to the panel on the elevator doors and pressed the 'open door' button. Not so surprisingly, nothing happened. Then he decided to try the emergency call button.

That was when Dean really decided that they were in trouble.

There was no emergency call button. In fact, all of a sudden, there were no buttons at all.

And if he had had any doubts before that they were dealing with supernatural circumstances, the fact that the elevator doors suddenly vanished as well, put an end to them…


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"I hate these stupid meetings."

Andrea Willis had a tendency to be blunt. Especially when she was doing something she hated.

The slender 5ft. 2in. blonde continued her trudge down the dark spiral staircase of the abandoned warehouse, despite the fact that she also continued her complaints.

"Everybody already knows that there are hunters in town, and they also already know that they've been taken care of, so why are the elders calling a stupid meeting?" She turned her chocolate brown eyes on her dark complexioned companion.

The man beside her, easily 6 ft. tall and every bit his 245 pounds, rolled his eyes in her direction. "Andrea, it's just protocol, that's all. These dudes are dangerous business, and we need to make sure that our charge is protected at all costs."

"Yeah, whatever," she muttered, as she fussed with the folds of her scarlet robe, another stupid protocol, in her opinion. "Protocol my foot. This is a huge waste of time."

Her companion simply rolled his eyes again and heaved a long-suffering sigh.

Their seemingly endless journey down the ancient staircase ended abruptly on a cement floor that was decorated in every cultic symbol you could think of. The hallway was long and dark, with as many doors as there were symbols.

Without hesitation the two robe-clad figures walked down the hallway and stopped in front of the thirteenth door on the left. The larger of the two rapped a rhythm on the steel door, which was then promptly opened from the inside. The heavy door opened with a scraping screech, not that different from the angry cries of the creature that their order protected. Ironic, Andrea thought, how it felt like she was walking into its gaping jaws every time she entered this room…

"Welcome, junior members Andrea Willis, and Shane Barklay to the Hall of Protectors." A voice called out in the darkened room. "We are honored to join you." The two new additions chorused in unison. They then moved quietly to take a seat at the back of the circular room. Tall and short candles were placed in sequence around the circumference of the area, giving off enough light to just make out the eleven other members that were seated in a semi circle around a black table. At the table sat three figures, facing the rest, each clad in the same scarlet robes. In the center of the table were arranged three candles, one in front of each elder.

"Let the meeting commence!" said the center elder.

"Aye!" chorused the rest. Andrea rolled her eyes.

"On the subject of the _hunters_…" the center elder's words were interrupted by hissing sounds around the room at the mention of their arch enemies. "…our junior member, Willis, has deduced that these two are indeed trying to destroy The Creature…" again, the hissing sounds erupted from the eleven. "…and has also devised, and set into motion a plan of counter measure."

Andrea smirked at the jealous glances she received from the other members. Junior members usually didn't receive this much attention, after all, especially from the elders.

When the left elder motioned for Andrea to step forward, she didn't hesitate. She was not one to be shy.

She made her way to the front of the group quickly, and at the prompting of the elders she unfolded her devilishly genius plan for dispatching the two young hunters. To her surprise, the elder board became increasingly agitated as she went on. Finally, the elder to her right interrupted.

"_Miss_ Willis! Are we to assume then, that you have indeed made contact, and further arrangements with a creature of Asian legend, known as the Hundun?" He asked incredulously.

"That is correct." She stated flatly. She had a feeling that this was about to go south…

"Are you _mad_, woman?" his crackly voice took on an edge of anger, "have you not sense enough to research a creature before you make contact with it? Hundun are renowned for turning their actions onto their summoners!"

Andrea felt heat rise in her cheeks as the elders continued their scrutiny of her plan. "You say you have arranged for the creature to 'twist their reality', and that when it is finished doing so, it is to kill them? What then if it decides to turn your plan against _us_? How are we to know if what we are seeing is truth?" The elders were now standing, and the twelve other members were murmuring amongst themselves.

"I have no reason to believe that your _speculations _will occur…"she began in her own defense, and the elders stiffened at her tone of defiance. "…nor do _you_ have any proof that _you're_ _assumptions_ about the Hundun are correct. I have everything under control."

Andrea made sure to emphasize her feelings that the elder board was outdated, and its members paranoid.

The elders on the right and left both began to speak in outrage, but were silenced by a motion from their companion in the center. Stooped with age, the older man craned his neck in order to look her in the face, his dark eyes sparking from under the heavy hood of the robe. The junior member didn't flinch, narrowing her eyes at him, daring him to say something against her.

They continued their staring contest for a few more moments, and then the elder raised a hand, indicating that he was about to speak. "The plan will continue as it has been determined. However, be it known that it is _without_ the better judgment of this board, and that the danger to The Creature, as well as to this assembly, is beyond tolerable levels. Taking this into account, I present this statement: _If_ the plan succeeds in accordance to the wishes of this assembly, then the junior member will be allowed to continue service…"

Andrea knew what was coming next, and for all intents and purposes, she felt confident that it would not come to pass. Unfortunately, there was also a knot of uncertainty that decided to take up residence in her gut at the moment. And as the last of the elder's terms resounded in the chamber, she almost felt like she had indeed been swallowed whole by an overbearing creature of massive proportions…

"…but _if_ not, and the safety of the assembly or our charge is compromised, the junior member will be punished accordingly and succinctly banished_._" He looked again at the young woman, and she felt a shiver run down her spine as she realized that he was completely blind.

His final words turned the knot in her stomach to ice.

"That is…assuming she survives the Hundun's trickery."

Dean Winchester had never been so cold in his entire life. Or at least, not that he could remember.

It had been two hours since their inexplicable entrapment in the elevator…which had now turned into a solid steel swimming pool.

Dean had spent his time trying his best to find a way out of the metal box, but had thus far been unsuccessful. He had also done his best to keep his brother alert and talking…especially since the younger man had become steadily paler in the last half hour.

"S-s-so, you m-mean to t-t-tell me that th-there's a b-b-beach with three hot b-babes around h-h-here?" The eldest hunter stuttered as his body tried to retain some kind of warmth.

Sam gave a half grin, "four." He had shoved himself as far into the corner of the elevator as he could in an attempt to minimize the contact with the now freezing water. His side, along with everything below the water line, had long since numbed, and the sharp pain had eased to a dull throb. That was the only advantage of their situation that Sam had been able to think of.

Dean, who had been trying to find even a crack in the ceiling to exploit, decided to give it a rest and swam over to his brother. He immediately noticed that Sam's lips were beginning to look blue against his pale skin and that he was shivering uncontrollably…which was also something that could be said of Dean.

"C-c'mon S-S-Sam, t-t-talk to me." He said as he huddled against his tall sibling, careful to avoid his injured side.

"D-d-dude…personal s-s-space…" Sam said weakly with another half grin; a small attempt to preserve some kind of light-heartedness. In their line of work, light-heartedness was hard to come by, and both brothers did their best to keep it somewhat alive on a day to day basis…although Dean was usually the best at it, a by-product of being a big brother.

"You w-want p-p-personal space, or warmth?" Dean grinned, "Cuz, y-you know, the ch-chicks t-tell me I'm h-h-hot…" He grinned, and then smiled fully in satisfaction at the small huff of mildly disgusted laughter that escaped Sam's blue lips. "Y-y-yeah, sure d-dude…whatever lets y-you s-s-sleep at night." Sam retorted.

"Ok-k-kay g-geek boy, s-s-so what d-d-do you think w-w-we're dealing with?" Dean asked. He had to keep Sam's mind moving. As Sam thought about the possibilities, he allowed Dean to huddle closer, and both boys attempted to rub some feeling back into their hands. It was so cold now that they could see their breath as puffs of white steam. Dean didn't miss the fact that Sam's puffs were much smaller than his own.

Sam could feel his eyelids getting heavier as he thought…

'_Demon? No, they can't create illusions…Thought-form? No, they can only create the illusion of themselves…'_

"Sam?"

'_Rakshasa? Nope, nothing to do with illusions…Jeez, I'm tired…'_

"Sammy?"

"I'm thinkin' D-d-dean." He stated. His tone didn't hold any bite at all, but sounded rather tired. How long had it been anyway?

The thought caused Sam to recall an important fact, "I c-c-called B-bobby."

Dean looked up at his brother. "What?"

"I c-called Bobby…earlier. T-t-told him to c-c-come lookin' for us if I d-d-didn't call him b-b-back by m-morning."

Dean snorted, "Well, s-s-sorry to tell you d-d-dude, but morning c-c-came and w-went a while ago."

Sam blinked momentarily before dropping his eyes to look at his brother. "What are you t-t-talking about? It c-c-can't be more th-than s-s-seven or eight in the m-m-morning." He was sure he hadn't lost count that badly…it had been around five a.m. when he'd entered the building, surely he hadn't been here for more that two hours?

"D-d-dude, I p-p-passed a w-window on the w-w-way here…j-j-judging by the s-s-sunlight c-c-coming from it, it w-w-was like, n-n-noon. An' that w-was at least th-three hours ago." Dean's teeth chattered audibly as he spoke. It had seemed a little odd to him that Sam had taken so long to just now be getting to the sixth floor, though.

Sam's eyebrows knit in concentration, confusion clouding his hazel eyes. No, that can't be right. "I'm p-p-positive D-dean…"

"M-me t-t-too."

If that were true…then where was Bobby?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"So, you from around here, or just passin' through?"

Bobby glanced uneasily at the broad shouldered woman seated in the driver's side of the black and orange eighteen-wheeler. In Bobby's opinion, she looked like she could either bench press 600 pounds while sleeping, or she had eaten her weight in cheeseburgers in the last 24 hours.

Either of which was rather impressive.

"Uh…just passin' through, really. Got some…nephews up in Ohio… that need a hand." He said in as friendly a voice as he could muster, whilst also trying to avoid saying anything that would raise more questions. He kept his right hand tightly gripped on the safety handle above the window on his side of the cab, and his left he wrapped around his hefty waist so that it was within reach of his handgun, should he need it.

"Uh-huh. Kids these days, you know? Can never do anything on their own!" She stated…or rather shouted. It seemed like the woman was also partially deaf, as she felt the need to constantly shout everything. It was ironic, how the interior of the hauler's cab simulated its owner. A pair of incredibly gaudy lime-green dice hung from the rearview mirror, and the seat covers looked like the sixties had thrown up on them, with swirling patterns of pastel and neon colored shapes. There was also enough garbage in the passenger floorboard to be a hazard concern to both the FDA and the ozone layer.

Luckily, it had only taken ten minutes for Bobby to hitch a ride. He had to admit that he was slightly surprised when the giant hauler slowed and turned off the road as it passed him. At first, he had thought that the trucker was just stopping to catch some shut-eye, or possibly was having tire trouble. But as the massive vehicle had backed towards him, he knew he had finally caught a ride…

…and now he was kind of wishing he hadn't.

The woman was nice enough as a conversationalist, despite her deafening tone, but Bobby found that there was something distinctly humiliating at being rescued by at least 350 pounds of female truck driver.

'_Those two had better be in a bucket load of trouble.'_ He groused to himself.

"So, whatcha do for a living?" The woman bellowed.

Bobby grimaced; this was going to be a _long _ride.

Forty-five minutes later…

After what seemed like hours, and twelve random questions later, Bobby found himself thanking every god he could think of that the giantess in the seat next to him had finally decided to shut her yap. She had switched to blaring the most hideous techno music Bobby had ever heard on the loudest volume possible.

But he wasn't about to complain. After all, bleeding ears or not, driver picks the music…

Anyway, he was at least able to preoccupy his time by watching the trees go by, and wondering just how much crap the Winchesters had managed to get into this time. He knew that there had been some reports of a Chupacabra in Ohio about a week ago, but surely they had managed to take it down by now. Everyone knows how to kill a Chupacabra...

Bobby's eyebrows knit together at the thought. How does that go again…silver spike to the heart…or was it copper spike to the brain?

'_Oh well, the boys would have remembered. Just gettin' old is all.'_

Bobby realized that he was back on the same fruitless path that he had been on just before his truck had decided to retire. He sighed.

Girlzilla glanced at him from her spot, and then promptly decided it was time for a change. She turned off the techno, and replaced it with a C.D.

A C.D. of Marvin Gaye romance classics. She smiled at him, her three teeth glinting at him from across the cab.

And quite suddenly, Bobby had the urge to vomit and laugh hysterically at the same time, which would have been an awful combination, now that he thought about it.

But just as it seemed that a suicidal leap from the cab might be his only hope of salvation, there appeared in a shining ray of light, the exit ramp for Stephensville.

"_Good Lord almighty in heaven…I swear I'll never hitchhike again as long as I live and breathe…"_

He crouched in the total darkness…waiting. This was just too easy.

He'd been waiting for this moment since the last time he had run into hunters, almost 180 years ago. Back then things were easier…back then it was simple to fool people. So much superstition and chaos reigned in those days, those glorious days.

But now, people had become nearly impervious to his attack. Their minds were more difficult to penetrate. Still chaos, but not the same _kind_ of chaos.

Now, they were concerned more with their petty future, their pathetic existence, and not so much about staying alive to enjoy it.

Now, they were smarter, more able to adapt to sudden change.

It made things more difficult…but then, he'd always enjoyed a challenge.

So, he waited. Playing his little games with hunter and hunted alike. Soon enough, their fates would be decided…but not by him.

No, he liked it better when these diminutive little creatures scurried right into a fate of their own design. And it looked like this time, he would enjoy every minute of it.

Because this time, he had 180 years worth of twisted ideas to unleash on them…this time, it wasn't a job, it was revenge.

And this time revenge would be played in the key of scream.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Andrea Willis stood stewing in her complete and total fury as she tried to think of some awful, hateful thing to say about the elders, that she hadn't already mentioned in the last ten minutes.

Shane Barklay sat in silent awe at the sheer number of tremendously spiteful things that he had been subjected to in the last ten minutes, simply by the hearing of them. It made him feel somewhat diminished…which was a hard thing to accomplish.

"They…those…how…the _nerve_!" The petite blond stormed about in the confines of the tiny lunch room at the back of the town library with the ferocity of a caged lion. Shane just stayed quiet, in an attempt to simply stay out of the path of destruction. He had been paired with Andrea since the time of his induction into the Order of Protectors, a year ago. He had since learned that looks were incredibly deceiving, and that the small framed woman pacing the floor in front of him could take him down in short order, if she had a mind to. Which was something he wasn't willing to chance at the moment.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, "Andrea…they're old geezers with an old fold up table and some old candles. Give it a rest, huh?"

She stopped her rampage long enough to grace him with a look of complete disgust. "Shane, seriously? 'Just give it a rest?'" Her voice had risen to irritating squeal of sorts that Shane found to be most annoying. "They _mocked_ me…in front of everyone! Like I'm some first year, pee-on cadet with no training!" She screeched.

He sighed. She had a point…but then again so did the elders. But he would be suicidal to say that at this point. So, he settled for a shrug and a partial grin that wouldn't have fooled a second grader. "Yeah, you're right. But I guess it'll just make it that much more fulfilling when your plan works."

His words struck a rather pleasant chord in her. "Hmmm...Yeah. Then the hunters _and_ the elders will get what's coming to them." She stated, her voice about three octaves lower than it had just been. The sound made Shane shiver a little. Andrea could be downright creepy sometimes.

Not that Shane wasn't accustomed to creepy by now. He had lived his entire life, until two years ago, in Roswell, New Mexico. He had been interested in the supernatural since he was seven years old, when his mother had disappeared mysteriously. After that, he had gone to college here in Ohio, and had really only been introduced to the Order because they offered to pay his tuition. A scheme, he now realized, to lure younger, faster, and more capable bodies into the Order, now that the elders could compete with the Triassic Period for age.

He remembered well the truck-load of training they put him through, just to make sure that he qualified to be _considered_ as a member. But that had been easy, compared to how hard they made it to get out again…

Presently, Shane was jerked out of his past life with the realization that the screeching had returned en masse, only this time it wasn't about the injustice of Andrea's treatment at the meeting. No, this time, there was a hint of fear in her voice as she stood at the entrance to the back room, hands fisted in her hair.

"Oh, no-no-no-no-no!"

"Andrea, what's wrong?" He asked, getting up from his spot at the tiny round table in the center of the room. He walked to where she was, concerned about his partners behavior.

But as the room beyond her came into view, he stopped short at the shocking scene, his face a portrait of disbelief.

Books lay scattered in every direction, pages torn and strewn from one end of the library to the other. Shelves that had once been in perfect order where now toppled over like dominoes, and even the computer desks were in shambles.

Andrea's desperation began to infect him as he felt himself beginning to lose his grip on his trademark placidity. Questions began to tumble end over end in his brain, as though they were in a race to see which one could drive him insane first.

'_Who did this?'_

'_How could this happen when we were right here?'_

'_Wouldn't we be able to hear something like this going on?'_

'_Did the hunters escape?'_

'_Is this some kind of punishment from the elders?'_

As the questions came crashing over him like a waterfall, Andrea turned to him, her face as pale as the moon. At that moment the trashed library came to life, books flying of their own accord in haphazard patterns. Desks and chairs scraped across the floor as they moved from one position to another, seemingly being dragged by an unseen force.

"Oh… my… God." Andrea whispered, her brown eyes full of shock. "I know what's happening…"

Shane blinked at her, confusion, panic, and utter disbelief fighting for residence on his features.

But all at once, it made perfect sense. And all it took was two simple words.

"It's him."

Dean honestly felt as though ice cubes were forming in his veins, or that his skin would shatter if touched…it was _that_ cold.

He had long since discovered that their steel trap was as air tight as a space station. He was beginning to really worry about their situation, ever since he had tried everything from shouting and banging on the walls, to using his knife to try and cut their way out. Nothing worked.

Sam's gun was useless, since it was as waterlogged as its owner, and Dean's own gun was in the hands of 'little-miss-bookworm-psycho-of-the-year'.

Sam's breathing had slowed, and was now about as shallow as it could get without him being in a coma.

The lights in the elevator had long since given up the ghost, and Dean noticed that the water gave off an eerie fluorescence that bathed the two prisoners in soft blue light, despite the fact that they _should _have been in total darkness. The freezing water seemed to dance and flow of its own accord, even as its occupants remained still.

It was downright creepy.

Sam had been convinced that Bobby was right behind them, and that it was only a matter of time before he found them. He had also been willing to argue the point, and Dean had folded, not really wanting to get into an argument with his younger sibling…which seemed to be happening more and more lately since the crossroads deal had been drawn. Besides that, there wasn't really a point in dashing their only solitary hope to pieces…

The more time wore on, however, the more it seemed less and less likely that any help was coming.

Sam was wedged in between the cold steel bar at the back of the elevator and his brother, and he remained only slightly less than comatose. Dean had done his best to keep his brother warm, but he himself could no longer feel anything below his shoulders, and neither brother was capable of intelligent speech anymore.

He fought the urge to fall asleep for what seemed like hours, but whether it was the head trauma from his fight with Andrea, or simply being stuck in freezing water for hours at a time, Dean felt his knees buckle, and he slid beneath the freezing liquid. _'This is it…' _Hethought._ 'Dean Winchester signing out. It's absolutely hopeless…'_

And it was that single thought that abruptly found the two hunters in a sudden change of scenery.

The shock didn't immediately kick in, probably because he was still freezing. It was only when Dean realized that he hadn't drowned yet that something clicked.

With a start, Dean stood up straight, his sandy-colored head popping up from underneath a 3 ft. deep pile...of white…fluffy…snow.

"Son of a…you've got to be kidding me!"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Sorry sir, but I haven't seen anyone that fits that description in the last twenty-four hours." The desk clerk was wearing a pasty blue button-down shirt, with a pasty yellow tie that looked awful against his pasty white skin.

Bobby was already sick of the guy. _'No, duh…idjit.'_

"Well, what about in the last forty-eight hours?" He asked, trying his best to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. The desk clerk huffed in obvious irritation at the inconvenience, but turned, nonetheless, to click away at the keyboard on his desk.

It had been nearly nine hours since Sam's strange phone call. The ride into town had been rather…stressful, and Sam's phone was still giving him the silent treatment. He was in no mood to mess with Mr. Pasty Face. The young clerk turned to his tired charge and opened his mouth to speak. Poor kid never saw it coming.

"I'm sorry sir, but there is no rec-"

Bobby cut him off short, "Now look here kid, I don't give a rat's hind parts what your records do or do not show."

Now, there were a few things poor pasty dude should probably have known before returning to his irritated customer with such news. Hunters, such as Bobby and the Winchesters, usually came into contact with their fair share of livid individuals. Just comes with the job. But when it came to being on the receiving end, there was no beating a livid Bobby Singer.

Bobby had always had a pretty short fuse, and when it got lit, there were three distinct ways that Sam and Dean in particular had found to determine exactly how angry Bobby was.

Narrowed eyes and sarcastic tone: Slightly ticked, may continue annoying behavior.

Red face, wide eyes, and loud tone: Very ticked, should probably discontinue annoying behavior.

Red face, narrow eyes, and unusually quiet tone: War Path, get the heck out of dodge.

It was quite normal for both boys to be on the receiving end of option A. Dean was rather accustomed to option B, and Sam had seen it once or twice. But it was a rare occasion indeed when either boy encountered option C. In fact, it was a rare occasion that _anyone_ encountered option C.

And 'Pasty Face' found himself on the receiving end of one such rare occasion.

Bobby stared at the guy, eyes narrowed to little more than slits, face as red as a boiled lobster. He stated, in a perfectly even, unusually quiet voice, "You had better give me more than 'I'm sorry' or so help me God, I'll find something for you to really be sorry for." Pasty turned a disturbing shade of pea green. Bobby continued, "I want to know where those boys are, and I _know_ they were here less than two days ago. Now you'd best think real hard before you answer me again, boy."

The room was dead silent. The clerk stood stock still, and for a moment Bobby thought he had literally scared the kid to death. Then, the silence was broken as the shocked receptionist began to babble uncontrollably. It was rather pathetic, really.

Poor guy was blubbering all over himself, so much so that Bobby actually stood back, just in case the guy exploded. The only things Bobby managed to catch amidst the blabbering were the words "here" and "left". He also managed to catch the phrase "Please don't kill me." in there somewhere as well. He sighed.

"Okay, okay, OKAY! Jeez kid, calm down before you give yourself a heart attack!" He held out his hands in a placating gesture. The information was useless to Bobby if he couldn't understand it. "Look, I'm not gonna kill ya', alright? Just calm down, and tell me that again _slowly_."

The boy took a moment to gather what dignity he had left. "Uh-umm…I d-did see a tall guy, about my age…last night. He got a room for two, number 154, and then left again an hour later, muttering something about stupid egos and older brothers." The clerk had been gradually taking small steps backwards during his speech, and with a desperate lunge into the side office, Bobby heard the last phrase, "I-I swear, that's all I know!"

"Great." Bobby muttered as he headed down the hall to room number 154. "That tells me exactly nothing." He hoped that with an examination of the room Sam had rented, he might be able to get an idea about where he had gone.

Bobby had no trouble at all getting the door open. He stepped over the salt line that lay perfectly unbroken on the floor, and flipped the light switch. He gasped.

Broken shards of glass from shattered lamps lay strewn about the small room. Chairs and a small table were splintered, the bedclothes shredded. _'This was no ordinary ransack.'_ Bobby thought as he surveyed the mayhem. The television and stereo system were still in the room, albeit trashed. The boys' duffel bags were still in the room as well, also trashed.

Bobby looked carefully about the room, his pistol securely in hand. He noticed several things all at once. There were no marks on the door and the salt line had been unbroken, meaning the trouble-makers didn't come through the front door. Nothing had been taken as far as he could tell, meaning the trouble-makers either weren't looking for anything in particular, or they were, but just hadn't found it. And last, Bobby noted with a sick feeling rising in the pit of his stomach, that the beds had not only been torn to shreds, but there were bullet holes in the pillow. This meant two things: A) The trouble-makers were most likely of the human variety, and B) either they were frustrated at not finding the boys and took it out on the room…or the trouble-makers had discovered that the boys were not in their beds _after_ their bullets had left their guns, and had then decided to trash the room.

Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed once more…because _that_ meant that now Bobby had more than just the Winchesters to find.

Shane Barklay was a big guy. He'd been a big guy his whole life. He'd been a head taller than everyone else, even in pre-school, and when he'd hit twelve years old his father couldn't get the recruiters from the local football teams to stop calling their phone. Shane had hated it, but he'd learned to live with it. He'd learned to find the bright side of it. Like, for instance, how _no one_ messed with Shane Barklay…out of sheer common sense.

Unfortunately, no one had bothered to mention that to the ancient evil being, which was now busy making Shane's life a living nightmare.

"I'm beginning to think this idea of yours was a bad one!" He shouted across the room, as he dodged a copy of 'Computers for Dummies' that was aimed at his head. He held a chair in his right hand, legs pointed in front of him, like a lion tamer would. Except in Shane's case, it was a thousand-year old, power-wielding, invisible, highly agitated lion.

Go figure.

"Oh, don't be such a big ba- _ouch_!" Andrea's retort was cut short as a hardback copy of 'Chicken Soup for the Lover's Soul' glanced off of her shoulder, followed closely by the 'A-F' section of the magazine rack. "Yeah, okay…maybe you're right!"

Shane almost dropped his chair….had Andrea Willis just admitted that she might have been _wrong _about something? No…no, that would never happen…he must have misunderstood that…

"Look, can we just _get out of here?_" Shane stumbled towards the exit door on the side of the building, tripping over strewn literature and furniture alike.

Andrea turned to follow her companion, and gasped, ducking just in time to avoid getting smacked in the noggin with a computer monitor. "Agreed!" She yelled, as she heard it shatter on impact with the wall behind her.

The two made their way to the exit, ducking, dodging, and avoiding the various flying objects that were whirling about the room. Shane, head down, was the first to hit the door. Locked or not, it wouldn't have stood a chance, but luckily it flung open easily. Both disconcerted parties dashed through to the other side.

Shane slammed the door closed behind Andrea, and both turned and leaned against it...only to stand bolt upright once more at the sight that greeted them.

They looked at each other, mouths hanging open in speechless shock.

"Dorothy…I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore." Shane managed finally. Had Andrea not been in total mental shock, she would have retorted with some snide comment comparing her large companion to Toto, of all things. However, she _**was**_ in total mental shock, and therefore, could only stare at the gruesome scene before her.

Flowers…lots and lots of flowers. _Pink_ flowers, nonetheless, as far as the eye could see.

"What have I ever done to deserve this?" Andrea stated, in utter horror. Shane could only shake his head_…'Oh, let me count the ways.'_


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"SAM!" Dean dove headlong into the chilly, yet fluffy, snowdrift that he had suddenly found himself in. He'd been looking for Sam for almost five minutes now, and Dean had noticed that although the snow was cold, it was less cold than the water had been...which was, you know…odd.

He dug into the small mountain of powder, tossing handfuls of snow in all directions. Soon, his hands were red from the abuse, but Dean didn't notice, he just kept on looking.

Finally, he uncovered a piece of brown corduroy…and recognized it immediately; Sam's favorite jacket.

"Sam!" Dean shouted as he tugged with all the strength he had left. Surprisingly, his brother came loose pretty easily. Unfortunately, Sam was still pretty close to unconscious.

"Sam, wake up!" Dean pulled his brother to a relatively flat spot in the snow, and knelt beside him, checking his brother's pulse. It was still there, but it was slow.

"Come on Sammy, wake up man! I'm not carrying your heavy carcass in this!" Dean pleaded, smacking Sam's face lightly. Sam groaned weakly. "Atta boy, Sammy, wake on up dude." Dean continued to coax his brother back to the land of the living.

"So…cold…" Sam managed quietly.

"Yeah, dude, I know. Snow tends to be that way." Dean replied, rubbing Sam's hands to try and get some warmth back in them. He surveyed their surroundings for the first time in ten minutes.

Nothing….just snow. There wasn't even wind. Come to think of it, there wasn't even a _sky_, at least, not that Dean could see. All he saw was endless miles of white. He turned back to his brother, who was blinking his eyes a little more now.

"It's so bright in here…where's all the water?" Sam asked, squinting up at Dean. "Uh…well, there's good news, and then there's bad news." Dean stated looking up at the…whatever was there. "The good news is that we are no longer trapped in the elevator. At least, I'm pretty sure we're not anyway. The bad news is that we are now trapped in an endless winter wonderland." Dean swept his arm in an outward arc, indicating the vast open…openness.

Sam blinked again, "We're trapped in a what?" Dean helped him sit up, and he looked around for a second, and then looked back at Dean. "Oh...never mind."

"Yeah. So, I'm thinking we head North." Dean said, fishing around in his jacket pocket. Sam looked at him and blinked groggily, "Are you serious? Dean, we have no idea where we are _or_ how we got here."

Dean knit his eyebrows together as he continued to feel around in his pocket, "I know it's in here some- Ah, HA!" He raised his hand in the air, waving about a small round object in triumph. "That, Sammy boy, is why we will use a _compass_." He cocked his head with a grin.

Sam glared at his brother. Some days Dean could be a real jerk, and Sam was getting tired of it.

Dean's grin faded at the look on Sam's face, and he felt anger begin to bubble up from nowhere, "Look Sam, what do you want me to say? What are we supposed to do, just sit here until hell freezes over?" He got to his feet, frustration replacing fatigue. "For all we know we're _in_ hell, and it _has_ frozen over!" He lifted his arms from his sides and let them drop back down again. "I mean, friggin' hell Sam, I couldn't keep you happy if my life depended on it!"

Dean was surprised at how fast the anger had replaced his optimism, but not nearly as surprised as Sam.

Sam's eyebrows were raised to his hairline. Dean's anger had struck deep, and for no other reason than the word placement of his last statement.

'_I mean, friggin hell Sam…'_ Sam blinked as the words echoed,_'…couldn't keep you…if my life depended on it…' _He felt tears begin to surface, he tried to stop them,_'…hell Sam…hell…'_He failed.

Failure. That's what it was always about, Sam's failure. He'd failed to keep Jessica safe, he'd failed to find his father when they needed him, he'd failed to keep his father once they found him, he'd failed to kill Azazel when he'd had the chance…on and on, the failures poured through Sam's mind.

Dean felt his sudden burst of anger dissipate as quickly as it had come, and regret soon replaced it. He watched as the emotions flashed by on Sam's face, like images on a television screen in fast forward. He watched as his brother's eyes filled with tears, and he watched as the tears began to flow down his face, unchecked. Sam didn't even seem to notice them…there was something deeper going on.

"Hey…Sam…Sam, I'm sorry dude…don't cry, man." Dean knelt beside his wounded sibling, placing a hand on his shoulder. But Sam didn't acknowledge the motion, as he continued to watch his own personal nightmare unfold in his mind.

…he'd failed to get his family to the hospital safely, he'd failed to recognize what his father's intentions had been before he died, he'd failed to keep a demon from possessing his own body, he'd failed to eliminate the threat in Cold Oak, and now…now he would fail to keep his own brother out of hell. His own brother…his _only_ brother. He was one giant failure, through and through.

Dean began to get worried, Sam was an emotional person, but he'd never ignored Dean before. "Sam, come on dude, that's enough alright?" Sam's tears had turned to sobs, but he continued to stare straight ahead, as though watching something Dean couldn't see. Dean tried again, "Sam, I said I'm sorry…_Sammy, snap out of it_!" Dean took hold of his brother's shoulders and shook him.

Perhaps it was the jolt of being moved, or it might have been Dean's raised voice, but whatever it was, it snapped Sam back to reality. He jerked in surprise as his eyes focused in on his surroundings, and found his brother less than three inches from his face.

Sam's sobs quickly turned into hiccups and the occasional hitched breath. "Dean? What…wha-" Sam looked around, dazed and confused. Dean looked worried, "Sam, what just happened? Was that a freaky vision thing, or…?"

Sam shook his head. No headache, and…why was his face wet? "No…I don't think so…I can't remember." Dean looked at his sibling with guarded eyes, "Okay…well, I'm sorry…about what I said. I…I was just frustrated, that's all."

Sam looked at him for a second, and slowly his memory came back to him. What was it…something about freezing in hell? He couldn't remember exactly, but an uneasy feeling had rooted itself in the pit of his stomach, so he decided to leave it alone. "Yeah, sure Dean…forget it."

Dean continued to study Sam for a moment longer, and then shrugged it off. Whatever had just happened, it wasn't going to get solved today. They had bigger fish to fry at the moment. "Right. Well, geek boy…" He helped Sam to his feet, noticing the cringe as his brother's ribs reminded him of their condition, "…how about you navigate, and I'll steer?" He gave Sam the compass, and then hefted his brother's arm over his shoulder, placing his own arm around Sam's back.

Sam studied the compass a second and then looked at Dean. "Uh…about that…" He turned the compass towards Dean, "…easier said than done."

Dean stared at the compass. The arrow was spinning in circles, first to the right, then to the left, then back to the right. "Dude, this sucks out loud."

No compass, no stars, no sun, not even wind, just miles and miles of snow. There was absolutely no way to tell direction. Sam looked at his brother, and although it was unnecessary, he decided to ask the obvious question anyway.

"So…what now?"

"Excuse me ma'am, but were you saying something about odd occurrences happenin' around here?" Bobby's voice held a note of weariness in it. He had been scouring the neighborhood for any sign of his two pals, and hadn't found hide nor hair of either. He couldn't even find their car.

He had spent half an hour digging around in the remains of what had once been the boy's hotel room, and found nothing to explain where the missing hunters had gone. He'd gone to the library where Bobby assumed they had begun their research, and found the place as much a mess as the hotel room, but no clues to where the Winchesters were now. It was odd, Bobby thought, that there hadn't been any cops around either site.

So, Bobby had decided to give himself a small rest before continuing the search. He'd stopped at a small diner about five minutes from the wreckage that was the library, and found it to be mostly empty, for which he was thankful. Bobby wasn't much for crowds, never had been…it's just easier to be on the alert if there aren't a lot of people around to keep track of.

He took note of the elderly gentleman at one end of the bar, and two middle aged women in a booth by the window, one with short brown hair, and the other with long red hair.

He sat at the other end of the bar, away from anyone else, and ordered a cup of coffee and a sandwich. The bartender went to work preparing his guests order, so Bobby did what he did best a lot of times. He listened.

Not too long after that, Bobby approached the two women in the booth, having overheard what might have been his first clue.

The red haired woman looked up at him uneasily, "Pardon me?"

"I'm sorry to intrude ma'am, but I couldn't help but overhear what you said about there being strange things going on here lately…is that right?" Bobby pressed, he really wasn't in the mood for making nicey nice with anyone.

The woman looked at her friend, unsure of his intentions. Her friend shrugged her a I-guess-he's-ok look. She turned back to Bobby.

"Well, yeah. There have been a few strange things going on around here, but they've been going on for a while now." She said.

Bobby knit his eyebrows together, "What sorts of things, if you don't mind me askin'?"

"Oh, just the same stuff that's been going on for a few years now. Talk of a monster in the woods near here, and some kooky bunch of folks that worship it or something. You know, just stories." She said nonchalantly.

'_Crap, maybe this isn't a lead to Sam and Dean, but it's a start.' _"A monster, huh?" He said, trying to sound as skeptical as he could. Wouldn't do for people to start thinking he believed in monsters just yet. _'Can't help Sam and Dean if I'm in the loony bin…'_

"Sorry about taking your time, miss, but do you know what happened over at the library? I hear it's a mess over there." He asked, hoping for a little hint.

"The library? No, I don't know anything about a mess…although, I'll tell you, that librarian is something else. Andrea Willis is her name, I think. I'd stay away from her if I were you." She stated, forgetting her unease and immediately slipping into 'gossip mode'. "I hear she worships the devil!"

Bobby tried to keep from rolling his eyes. Yeah, the devil. Sure. "Yes, ma'am, but what ab-"

"I also here she's into witchcraft and all kinds of black magic, oh, and yesterday I heard she went off with some young ruffian in a black jacket, and he hasn't been seen again." She said in a hushed tone, cutting Bobby off mid-sentence.

That got his attention.

"This fella' she was with…where'd they go to?" He asked, probably a little more excitedly than he should have. But hey, who cares? It was a possible lead, finally.

"Oh, I have no idea, but I hear tell that he hasn't been seen again since he set foot in her apartment complex, poor fella. I swear that place is haunted." She said, looking solemnly at her friend, who bobbed her brown head in agreement.

"And this apartment complex is where?" He asked.

"Jade Street. It's the only complex on that God forsaken piece of land, but I'll warn you, I've heard of some strange things happening in that place." She said gravely.

Finally, something to work with! Bobby could have kissed her on the spot...almost. Instead, he settled for a quick 'thank you', and taking his sandwich and coffee to go, he tossed the bartender a few bills and dashed out the door.

Ten minutes later, he was standing in front of the Jade Street Apartment Complex, and he was none too happy about what he saw.

First thing he noticed was the flashing lights of the tow truck, pulling away from the complex…with a midnight black 1967 Chevy Impala hooked to it. "Oh, Dean's gonna have a fit." Bobby muttered as he watched the truck leave. He would have to worry about getting their car out of jail later.

The second thing he noticed was that there were no other cars in the parking lot. Not one, and it was nearly noon on a weekend. Bobby walked towards the complex, taking in his surroundings as he walked. Something wasn't right about this place.

He opened the clear glass door and entered into a large lobby area. He noted that there was a stairwell next to the back entrance, a row of mailboxes, an elevator on the opposite wall and a desk to the left of the front entrance. He approached the desk, noting also that there was no clerk. He rung the small silver bell and waited. And waited. And waited. No one came. "Hello? Is there anyone here?" Bobby called. No answer.

Great.

He decided to try looking at the mailboxes for the librarian's name, but as he approached them, he looked through the small glass window in the rear entrance door…and nearly screamed.

Staring through the window right back at him was a single scarlet robed figure.

But that didn't really bother him all that much, he'd seen quacks in robes before. No, that wasn't the freaky part.

The freaky part was the fact that the thing appeared to be blind, but Bobby could feel it's gaze piercing straight through to his soul…


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Does it seem weird to you that there are no bees?"

Andrea stopped dead in her tracks. Surely she hadn't heard that correctly. She turned to glare at Shane, a sour expression on her face. "Come again?"

"Bees, Andrea. There aren't any bees, and it's May. There should be bees." He stated solemnly. As if he actually expected her to care.

She crossed her arms and tried her best to exude the most sarcastic and condescending attitude she could muster, despite the fact that she was completely freaked out.

"Shane, we're stuck in a giant, endless field of pink freaking flowers. We've been walking for at least a half an hour and we can still see the library door…and you think it's weird because there areno_ bees_?"

True to her statement, they had indeed been walking in what they felt was a straight line for at least thirty minutes (although both of their watches had stopped, so it was impossible to tell), and upon turning around they had found that they could still clearly see the library door…less than ten feet from where they stood.

They had tried to open the door again, but found that it wouldn't budge…and then the door handle had turned to liquid in Shane's hands, leaving them without a way to pick the lock. Since then, the pair had decided to try walking in different directions, running in different directions, and calling for help.

But still, there they stood, ten feet from the library door. And yes, there were no bees.

"Well, yeah, I know that's weird, but I'm just saying. It's a field of flowers, in May. There should be bees." Shane said, rather calmly Andrea noticed.

At first, Andrea thought her partner might be in mental shock from their strange circumstances, but upon further inspection, she could find no other obvious signs of it. No shaking hands, no sweating, no loss of color. She then began to wonder if her partner was simply insane, but that theory wasn't holding any water either, the more she thought about it. So that left one other option. Shane had settled into their situation rather comfortably, and was just making a statement based on logical observation of their most illogical surroundings…which was the most disturbing of all her conclusions to his behavior.

"Shane, you're not bothered at all by this, are you?" She asked pointedly.

He turned towards her, a strange look in his eyes. "Why would I be bothered by all this, Andrea?"

Something in his tone made her step back a pace…something wasn't right about it.

"Well, how about the fact that it's _not normal, _for starters."

"Normal is a relative term, my dear." Shane said.

Except it wasn't Shane anymore. His eyes had dark vertical slits, where round pupils should have been, and his skin had turned an ugly shade of bluish-green. Andrea gasped, "What…who are you?"

"I am everything you see, hear, and feel." He swept an arm outwards to indicate their surroundings. Shane's form rippled along with the field they stood in. Suddenly they were standing in a forest of dark, lifeless trees. "Welcome home, Andrea."

He grinned. Andrea screamed and turned to run, but found herself falling instead.

Downward, twisting, turning, screaming. Farther and farther she fell as complete and utter darkness took its hold, blanketing her in its cold depth. Her flailing arms soon found that there were walls of slime on either side of her, and she dug in with every ounce of strength she possessed to try and stop the descent. Unfortunately her finger found no purchase, only letting loose giant globs of nameless, colorless goo to join her in her downward climb.

She screamed until she had no voice left, but still she fell, unsure of what would greet her at the bottom…or if there _was_ a bottom.

Falling, tumbling, down, down, down, until time lost all meaning. She fell for minutes, hours, week, or years. It was all the same.

Andrea forgot what standing was like, what walking, or lying down was like. She forgot about light and flowers, and Shane. She forgot about everything. Everything…except for falling.

And that was when the falling stopped.

"Dude, you have _got_ to lay off the burgers."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Dean, I don't eat burgers that much, remember? _You're_ the beef hound."

The two boys stumbled along in the endless snow, the older supporting the younger as best he could. They were huffing and puffing like steam engines at this point.

"Alright, hold up Sammy, I gotta stop for a second." Dean wheezed. Walking in snow was hard work, almost worse than walking in sand, Dean thought. They had been trudging for God knew how long, and there was still nothing in sight except snow.

"Yeah, I could use a rest myself. My side is killing me." Sam said, as his brother gently helped him to the ground.

Dean flopped down in the snow beside his brother, flat on his back. He laid there for a second, just catching his breath. Thoughts of the events leading up to this moment began to flash in his mind.

"Sam, when I was…captured, before. You know, in the closet. I thought…I could have sworn…" Dean began. Somehow, he just didn't know how to get it out. He knew Sam would think he was losing it.

"What? What did you think?" Sam prompted, his curiosity now piqued. It was a rare moment when Dean decided to share anything personal with him, and he wasn't one to pass up an opportunity.

Dean cleared his throat, obviously unsure of how to continue. "Well, I thought…I heard Dad."

Sam blinked. "Dad? You thought you heard, like what…a ghost?"

"No, dude. Well, yeah maybe. I don't know. It was weird, he…told me you were in trouble. Said you needed my help." Dean said. Best to skip the scared-to-death-of-rodents part, he thought.

"I was in…what kind of trouble? Was he talking about the…you know, the deal?" Sam asked, suddenly finding something very interesting about his hands.

Dean propped himself up on his elbows, looking intently at his younger brother. "What? The deal? Why would he say _you_ needed _my_ help about the deal?"

Sam shrugged, not really willing to give eye contact just yet. "I don't know…I mean, you…you'll be…I'll have to do all this by myself." He managed. He just couldn't bring himself to say those words, but he could sure think them. Over and over again…_'You'll be dead.'_

He felt his brother shift to a sitting position beside him. "Sam, look. I know this deal thing is hard. And I won't apologize for doing what I thought was best for you," Sam started to protest his brother's words, but Dean cut him off, "no, just listen for a second. What I'm trying to say…is that you're a good hunter, you'll be fine."

Sam shook his head. How come those words sounded so recorded? How could Dean be so blind to the fact that Sam _needed_ him? Sure, he could hunt. He wasn't the best, but he could hunt. That wasn't the point.

"Dean, I'm not talking about hunting. I'm talking about…" He struggled to find the word, "…about _everything_. Life, existence, every day." He turned to look at Dean, who was looking considerably uncomfortable. "Dean, I've lost everyone and everything I ever cared about…except you. Jess, Dad, Mom, my diploma…my friggin' delusions of a normal life for crying out loud! And now? Now you too, and for what? Because I was too distracted to hear a six foot guy in combat boots, with a knife, slopping through the mud behind me?" Sam's hands were trembling now with the adrenaline of actually saying this out loud. How long had he been holding this inside? Seemed like a decade or so.

Dean was shaking his head, looking completely dumbfounded. Was this what his father had meant? All this emotional crap that Sam had managed to wrap himself up in…for how long? "Sam…this isn't your fault."

"Why not? Because you say so?" Sam was starting to sound a little angry now, but Dean couldn't tell whether it was directed at himself or his brother. Either way, he wasn't taking the bait.

"No Sam, because it's the truth." He said, standing to his feet.

"The truth? Dean, the truth is that _I screwed up. _And now you're paying for it…" He looked up at Dean, angry tears welling in those giant puppy dog eyes, "…like you always do."

That caught Dean a little off guard. Sam's words hit hard, and that surprised Dean, because until that moment, he wouldn't have thought it true.

Sam continued, finally feeling able to release some of the pressure that had been building over the past few months, "You're always having to pay for somebody else's mistake, Dean…for _my_ mistakes, and it's not fair. If anyone deserves the pit, it's m-"

"Don't you dare say that!" Dean cut his brother off before he'd had the chance to finish his sentence. His voice was on the edge of dangerous, and Sam noticed. Dean knelt and took hold of Sam's collar, getting as close to his brothers face as he felt comfortable with, "Sam, I've spent my entire life taking care of you. First, because I had to, but then because I _wanted_ to."

He let the words sink in for a minute before going on. Sam needed to hear this now, because if Dean didn't get it out now, he never would.

"You're a grown man now Sammy, you don't need me, not really. But that will never change the fact that it is my life's work to take care of you. Everyone screws up, and God knows I've made my share of mistakes…but if I had to do it over again, Sam so help me, I would." He looked Sam square in the eyes, "Don't you ever forget that Sam. Hell doesn't hold a candle to the kind of torture it would be for me to know that you were there instead…so don't you _ever_ say that again."

He stood back up and held a hand out for Sam. He waited, knowing it would take Sam a minute to absorb his brother's statements. Dean usually didn't spring for the whole deep, heart felt conversations. He would usually say it was because it made him feel like a chick, or something. But he knew the real reason was because it uncovered those most vulnerable parts of himself to another person, which left him open to get hurt, and that was something that hunters just didn't do. It was something he'd gotten wounded doing before, and he'd learned from it. This was an extenuating circumstance, though, because the kind of thing Sam had been about to say, was the kind of pain that overruled all else. Thus, in his own defense, he'd had to open himself up, just for a second.

Finally, Sam took his hand, and groaned as Dean hauled him to his feet.

They looked around in uneasy silence for a minute before deciding to continue walking in what they presumed was a North-ish direction.

*WHUMP*

Both brothers whirled around at the unexpected sound, ready for anything, as the glistening puff of snow settled back to the earth. Dean held his knife at the ready, and Sam was crouched in a combat stance, which was rather painful, but necessary.

However, neither of them were prepared for what greeted them.

They looked at each other, and then back at the girl that lay sprawled where she had fallen in the snow bank. She appeared to be unconscious…and she also appeared awfully familiar.

Dean's grip on his weapon tightened, as the muscles in his jaw worked. Oh, this was just too much. He ground out her name, forcing it to come through his teeth.

"Andrea."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

As soon as Bobby had sprung into action, the stranger in the window did the same. Bobby ran to the back door of the complex and flung it open, his gun at the ready. Unfortunately, his creepy quarry had vanished into thin air…or so it appeared. There was no trace of the thing. No footprints, no broken twigs or crushed leaves. There was absolutely nothing to track the thing with.

Then again, that sort of thing is actually pretty ordinary, when you kill things that don't exist.

Bobby closed the door again quietly, keeping alert. Wouldn't do for him to get caught with his trousers down when he was this close to finding his friends.

He backed away from the door, sidling up to the row of mailboxes. He scanned each one, looking for the name that had been dropped in the diner by the unsuspecting red head. He had just laid eyes on it when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, something in the stairwell. Bobby moved to the door that led to the stairwell and peeked in through the small window that was set in it. What he saw made his heart leap, but this time it wasn't out of fear.

Quickly opening the door he stepped through and crouched to the ground examining his find. It was a scuff mark from a boot, closely followed by the entire print. Bobby didn't have to study it too hard. He'd know those tracks anywhere.

They belonged to Sam.

Judging from the scuff pattern, Sam had been running up the stairs. But why? Had something chased him? Maybe the scarlet figure in the window? Bobby wasn't sure, but he knew one thing for certain.

He was on the right path.

Bobby paused a moment, trying to decide what to do next. According to the address on the mailbox, the librarian's apartment was on the sixth floor. Even if the guys weren't there anymore, he felt sure that there would be more clues to their whereabouts in that direction. With any luck, he might even be able to speak with the librarian and question her.

He knew that taking the elevator would be risky, but at his age six flights of stairs would put him out quite a bit. Both options would leave him a little vulnerable for a variety of possible circumstances, like getting ambushed while he was winded. However, his hunter's instincts won out over old age, and he decided to simply take the stairs…slowly.

Six flights of stairs later, Bobby had to pause in order to catch his breath. Even taking it one stair at a time, he reminded himself once again of why he'd retired. It felt unusually hot in the stairwell, and sweat was already forming under Bobby's cap. He opened the stairwell door a crack, just to survey the surroundings. Seemed normal. He stepped out of the stairwell, noting the large number six that was painted on the wall just outside of the door. Still seemed normal. The color of the walls was a sickly shade of grey that could also have been mistaken for olive green. Whichever the case, it wouldn't have mattered, because it was in the process of peeling off of the walls anyway. The carpet held the musty odor of mildew, as if there had been a large amount of water seeping into it at one point.

Bobby moved cautiously down the hall, scanning his surroundings as he went. He soon found apartment number 23. He knocked on the door. No answer.

'_Of course no answer, there's probably not a dang living soul in the whole place.' _He thought to himself.

He was poised to break through the door, when he noticed something unusual about the door of the supply closet. He stopped, scanning the scene from afar, but it was hard to tell what had caught his attention from that distance.

He moved closer, examining the closet. "Something happened here." He said quietly, noting the scrapes around the lock…on the inside of the door. He carefully stepped into the closet, bending down to pick something up off of the floor. It was a piece of rope, and judging by the look of the severed ends, it had been sawn through with a relatively small knife.

This was not a good sign.

Bobby continued his investigation, finding a second set of severed ropes on the floor of the closet, and a few more scuff marks on the floor of the closet. These were different from the ones in the stairwell, they were darker and closer together. "Dean." Bobby deduced. He grimaced in sympathy as he also noted a few rat droppings on the floor, remembering how much Dean hated those things.

The carpet in the hallway prevented Bobby from finding anymore scuff marks on the floor, but he found a considerable amount of chipped paint on the carpet outside the closet. He figured it was where Dean had leaned against the wall…meaning he was either injured or he was tired. He searched for traces of blood, and breathed a sigh of relief when he found none.

Bobby paused in his search, glancing at the apartment door. _'Should I see what's in there, or follow this?'_ After a moments though, he decided that whatever had transpired here had probably taken place after they got to the apartment, and thus he would continue this trail of evidence. He noted that there were patches in the carpet that were rubbed the wrong way, making them stand out a little from the rest of the carpet. Bobby stooped to examine them closer.

"Well, boy, looks like you were draggin' your feet." He said to no one in particular. "I sure hope you two are alright." He mused, as he thought about the implications.

He followed the tracks to the vending machine, halfway to the elevator, where they had suddenly become more pronounced…as though Dean had been trying to run.

"Now that's odd. Since when have you ever run from anything?" Bobby said aloud. Unfortunately, that was where the trail ended. It was almost as if Dean had be lifted completely off of his feet and taken…somewhere. Bobby went to the elevator. He pressed the 'down' button, hoping to find something of value inside. A red light flashed at the top of the elevator and a soft chime sounded as the door creaked open. Bobby poked his head in and looked around. Nothing, except a dent in the far wall just above the support bar. He decided to take a closer look.

His mistake.

"Andrea, wake the heck up!" Dean called roughly. He had long since decided that he was going to get answers from her if it was the last thing he did.

Of course, she would have to be awake first…

"Come on, Dean, give it a rest. She's out cold, it's pointless to keep doing that." Sam sighed from his seat on the cold, wet ground. It had taken the boys a minute to collect themselves after discovering that the fallen object before them was, in fact, the very person that had put them in this situation.

Dean had wanted to argue that she must be responsible for the unexplainable things that had been happening to them, but Sam didn't see the logic in it.

"Why not, Sam? She led us right into a trap, wouldn't it make sense that she was the one to _set_ the trap?" Dean argued.

"Dean, how much sense would that make considering she's obviously trapped here _with _us?" Sam countered.

"I…she…you know what? I'm the oldest, and I say she's behind it. End of story." Dean huffed. Sam rolled his eyes, "Yeah, sure Dean, whatever. You know, when you say that, it just means you can't come up with anything better, which means I'm right." He grinned. It was that annoying-little-brother-grin, the one that all younger siblings have. Dean hated that grin…almost as much as he loved it. He started to come back with a sharp retort, but settled for his usual sarcastic charm, "Oooh, college-boy…thinks he's so smart."

That ended the argument, but the day was far from over. At that moment, Andrea began to stir.

"Finally, the Wicked Witch of the West is undead." Dean growled, "Nice of you to join us."

She groaned and rolled over, looking from one brother to the other. "Who…who are you? Where am I?"

The hunters looked at each other, and then back at their 'guest'. "Oh, come on," Dean started, "you don't forget a face like this overnight, sweetheart." Sam rolled his eyes again, and stood up gingerly. Dean could be so…so…_Dean_ sometimes.

Andrea blinked, looking completely confused. She looked around at their strange surroundings. "Is this…snow? Where are we? What happened?"

"Why don't you tell us, huh? Come on Andrea, cut the crap." Dean crouched in front of her, eye to eye. He wasn't playing around.

Andrea knew that these two meant business, but try as she might, she couldn't remember a thing before right now. "Look, I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about." She said shakily. _'Did he call me Andrea? Is that my name?'_

"Dean…" Sam placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean didn't break eye contact with Andrea, but he stood. Sam moved a few feet away, and then turned and waited for Dean to follow. At first Dean just stood there, towering over Andrea, but finally he moved cautiously away to where his brother waited.

"Dean, I think she's telling the truth." Sam said, when he was sure Andrea couldn't overhear them. Dean hesitated. He didn't want to admit it, but his years of experience at hustling pool, playing poker, and lying consistently had taught him to spot a lie from a mile away.

Andrea was telling the truth.

He sighed, "Yeah, I know. I don't know how, but she's completely lost her memory."

"Yeah, which means if she did get us into this, she won't know how to get us out. And if she didn't put all this together, she still won't remember anything useful." Sam agreed.

He had continued to wrack his brain in an attempt to figure out who or what was behind the events, but had since come up completely short. It felt like it was just out of reach, though, like there was just one more piece of the puzzle that needed to fit before he could figure it out. It was incredibly frustrating.

"Well, memory or no memory, we need to keep an eye on her, just in case it comes back." Dean said. Sam sighed, "All right, but look, we're not going to last much longer without food and water. I have a lighter, so we can probably melt some of this snow with it."

"Whoa, whoa, hold on. You seriously want to drink this stuff? What if it's not real snow?" Dean cautioned. Sam thought a moment, "Well, do you have any other suggestions?"

He had a point. "Uhhh…no. Alright, alright, go ahead." Dean resigned, "as for food, we could always eat the troublemaker."

Sam flashed a look of disbelief at his brother, blushing red as Dean let out a loud hoot of laughter as his statement gained the intended reaction. "Dean, you're so immature." Sam muttered.

15 minutes later…

"Sssoo then he says …'I'm a doctor, not a bricklayer!'"

All three companions bust out in raucous laughter, which quickly turned into a chorus of hiccups.

"No *hic* no, heerza good one. A *hic* nurse goes into…to a bar, right? And the *hic* bartender sez-" Dean began.

"Naw, dude…*hic* yer messsin it up." Sam slurred, "Pass me s'more *hic* wadder."

Andrea swayed as she reached for the small canister that held the melted snow, giggling as she did so. The liquid sloshed about as she stumbled over to where Sam and Dean sat, leaning back to back on each other. She handed it to Sam who reached for it, only to have Dean swat at his hand, "Hey! Iss my turn, *hic* Sssammy!"

Sam reached for the container again, "Noway Dean!" He grabbed the container out of Andrea's hands, who was still giggling like a six year old. Lifting it up to his lips, Sam missed the first time, spilling the clear liquid down the front of his jacket, but he tried again, and gulped a few swallows. "Now you kin have sssome." He said, clumsily handing the bowl over his shoulder.

Dean snatched it out of his brother's grasp, muttering to himself.

This continued for another hour or so, until finally all three had dozed off. Dean lay flat on his back in the snow, snoring loudly. Sam lay parallel to him, his head resting on Dean's stomach. Andrea lay a few feet away, curled up in the fetal position, the container of 'water' clutched tightly in her hands. It was still brightly shining, as there appeared that there was no sense of night or day in this place.

After a while, the trio began to wake…and it wasn't pretty.

"Oh, God…my head hurts like a b-" Dean's sentence was promptly cut short as a wave of nausea overtook him. He clamped his lips together in an effort to keep the contents of his stomach where they were.

Sam rolled on the ground, one hand on his side, the other on his stomach, his eyelids scrunched tight against the brightness of the snow. "Holy crap…oh, I'm gonna be sick." He said quietly. He glanced at Dean, who had suddenly turned a startling shade of pea green. He looked back over to where Andrea had been the night before, and grimaced. She was on her knees, and in the process of upchucking every last ounce of 'water' she had drunk the night before.

He grimaced again as the sound of Dean's retching reached his ears a moment later, and that was the last straw. Sam joined in, and soon all three companions were emptied completely out once more.

"Okay," Dean gulped, wishing he could rinse out his mouth, "I didn't see that coming."

"Yeah, me neither. I don't want to even think about drink-" Sam began.

"No, don't even say it. I don't have anything left to puke." Andrea groaned, "since when does water make you drunk?"

The boys looked at each other. There was no way. No natural contaminant would cause that kind of reaction. There was only one explanation.

The three of them closed their eyes against the glare as Dean stated the obvious, "It's not snow." He kept his eyes closed, wondering how they were going to get out of this one.

'_We can't tell direction, what if we're going in circles?'_

"Uhh, Dean?"

'_There's no grass or animals, or anything. We'll need food soon.'_

"Dean, dude…"

'_How are we supposed to survive if we can't even drink the water?'_

"Dean, open your eyes!"

Dean pried open his eyes as the desperation in Sam's voice reached through his worry. He blinked against the glare for a second, a blue haze clouding his vision for a second. Then his eyes adjusted.

What he saw made his breath catch in his chest. There was no more snow, no more mysterious glaring light. No, they would no longer have to worry about the alcoholic water.

Nope, now they would have to worry about quite the opposite. To his horror, Dean realized that they were all three kneeling in ankle deep ash…

…at the foot of a volcano.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

As soon as Bobby stepped foot inside the elevator, he knew he was in trouble. After all, elevator floors are generally supposed to stay put.

Immediately after placing both feet on the floor of the elevator, it had literally dropped away…or that's what it had seemed like. Bobby dropped to his knees out of terror at seeing the floor panel hurtling end over end into black nothingness.

Peculiar thing was…Bobby hadn't moved. The floor was no longer there, he could see the shear drop right in front of him! Yet, there he was, on his knees, on a floor that wasn't there any more. It took him a moment to be able to breathe again.

"What…the hell?" He whispered. He tried to get up...but found that he was glued to the spot, paralyzed with a sudden fear that whatever invisible force was holding him in place would disappear as soon as he moved. He closed his eyes, hoping that maybe this was just a dream, or a nightmare, or something other than reality. Bobby peeked out from under hooded eyelids.

Nothing doing, there was still no floor. "Crap."

Bobby craned his head over his shoulder, looking to see if he could touch the 'open doors' button. It looked like it might be possible, so he reached slowly towards the panel. He noticed something strange about the numbers on the panel, but was too occupied with panicking to pay it any attention.

As soon as his finger brushed the button, the front wall of the elevator began to tip backwards. Bobby breathed in sharply as the entire front wall fell away, tumbling into the black void where the floor had gone. All that was left was Bobby, and the three remaining walls.

The thing is, Bobby was never one to just take everything at face value…actually, he rarely took anything at face value. There was always a catch, and that mentality had saved his hide on more than one occasion. Bobby's eyes narrowed…this had to be some kind of trick…some kind of illusion.

He reached out and pushed on the left wall. It tipped and fell away as the other two had, until it too disappeared. "Uh, huh…figured that might happen."

Still shaky from the adrenaline that fear had left in its wake, Bobby decided to chance it and get up. He forced himself to stand, careful not to touch the rest of the walls. After all, you never know…if the other two walls were pushed over, maybe the trap would be complete, and Bobby would be the last to go.

Questions began to flood in…

'How am I going to get out, if there's no door?'

'If the elevator's fake, is the whole building here?'

'What about the town, is that fake too?'

But the one that struck the hardest was the question of where Sam and Dean had ended up. If the whole place was booby-trapped with things like this, what had happened to them? The lobby, stairwell, and hallway had seemed real enough. The cut ropes and scuff marks had been real…at least, he thought they had been real. But…what if they weren't? Was this whole thing a giant trap for Bobby?

He didn't know, but the one thing he had learned in his years as a hunter was this: if you don't know, you follow your gut. And his gut was telling him that Sam and Dean were here…somewhere.

"Okay Singer, time to get outta here." He muttered to himself, "Right, so if this is an illusion, there's usually a key to breakin' it…" He took a deep breath, and then jumped. He went up…he came down.

*THUD*

"Okay…so that ain't workin'." He said, noting that there was no shimmer around his feet when he had impacted the floor, meaning there wasn't necessarily a force field of some kind. Meaning the floor itself was probably still there.

The next action presented itself fairly quickly. If the floor was still there, it wouldn't be such a stretch to say that the doors were still there…and thus also the buttons.

Bobby mentally pictured the doors as they had been, he extended his index finger, and stabbed at the empty space where the 'open door' button should have been.

*ding*

Bobby heard the familiar chime, and the elevator faded back into view…floor and all. The door creaked open once more, and Bobby threw himself out onto the carpeted hallway. He wanted to kiss the ground, but settled for getting up and dusting himself off instead.

"Whew! Well, that's one for the record books." He stated. He looked around…and discovered, to his dismay, that there was not a number 6 painted on the wall, but a number 8.

"Eight? This building doesn't even have eight floors." He said, concern etching his features. He'd noticed when examining the mailboxes that the highest floor number was six.

"Great…another trick, I'll bet." He grumbled. However, Bobby knew that little things in illusions could often give something away. Like, for instance, numbers on the wall.

"Hang on just a second…" He mused, staring at the figure of the eight on the wall in front of him. So far, the only numbers he'd actually seen in the building where the numbers six, and eight. That was what was so strange about the elevator panel! Bobby recalled what it was that had caught his attention…all the numbers had been rubbed off of the buttons, except for the number six. Now that he really thought about it…even Andrea's apartment number, 23, had been spelled out on the box, rather than printed in numbers…which was unusual.

"Six and eight, six and eight…" Suddenly it came to him. He snapped his fingers as his brain put the pieces together. "Fourteen!"

And just like that, he knew what it was that was behind the elaborate trickery, or rather who it was…

"What kind of apartment complex is this?" Dean exclaimed for the fourth time, as he dashed through the thick underbrush on the Sam's heels. When it came to running, even Dean couldn't keep up with Sam, with his freakishly long legs.

The three companions had quickly decided to analyze their sudden appearance at the foot of a volcano later…after they ran for their lives. Shortly after their arrival, a dark rumble had sounded from all around them, the source deep underground. Sam had deduced that since there was so much ash on the ground, it was highly likely that the volcano was not only active, but in the process of erupting. Hence the running.

A quick glance around had shown them that the entire area was surrounded by thick vegetation…giant elephant ear plants, palm trees, and some strange looking flowers that were taller than Sam grew in large numbers in every direction.

They had been running for nearly ten minutes, when Sam suddenly skidded to a halt without warning, causing Dean to collide with his brother, and Andrea to collide with Dean. If things hadn't been so suspenseful, it would have been awfully funny to watch.

"Sam?" Dean asked, peeking around his brother to see what had stopped their progress. Sam's eyes were as wide as saucers, and his mouth hung open in total surprise. "Sam?" Dean asked again. He followed the younger hunter's line of vision, and promptly followed suit, mirroring his brother's expression.

"Guys, what is going on? Hello, erupting volcano, can we please keep mov-" Andrea's suggestion died on her lips, as the sight greeted her as well. She was the first to find her voice again. "No freaking way."

The three had come to the edge of the forest, literally. The ground in front of Sam dropped away, ending in a vast area about 50 feet below them. The area extended for miles, and consisted of a few shrubs here and there, dry and cracked earth…and hundreds upon hundreds of skeletons.

Bones could be seen scattered everywhere, but it was no mistaking what they belonged to. They were the skeletons…of dinosaurs.

"It's a safe bet that we're not in Ohio anymore." Sam whispered. Dean, still shell shocked, didn't reply. Moments later another rumble occurred, but this time, it was followed by a boom. The trio turned around. "Oh, no" Dean managed to say, horrified to see the top of the volcano over the trees…now spewing tons of molten lava in a spectacular spray, which in turn landed on the sides of the giant mountain and began to flow down the sides at an alarming rate.

"Guys we gotta move!" Andrea urged. The three turned back towards the massive dinosaur grave yard. It was a straight drop of rock and mud, no vines, no roots, no boulders. "Well, how do you suggest we do that, princess?" Dean growled. This day had to be the worst day in history…so far. "I don't know, I'm just saying, if we don't get out of here fast, we'll be joining our lizard friends down there!" She shouted back, her voice rising to an annoying squeal.

"Guys, this isn't helping us to get out of here," Sam interjected, "and besides, we need to get to higher ground, not into a valley." He surveyed the area, thinking as fast as he could. The trees would burn, so they wouldn't be safe climbing them. The valley was going to fill up like a bowl, so that was no good. Wait…a bowl? Bowls had sides all around, right?

Sam peered to the other side of the valley…sure enough, there was another cliff on the other side, and it appeared to be higher than this one. "Okay, I've got an idea. We need to get to the other side of the valley, and then scale that other cliff." Sam stated.

Dean looked at his brother as though he had grown a second head, "Are…you serious? Sam, there's no way we'll make it in time! We don't even know how to get down!" He could already feel the heat from the lava that was making a steady path straight for them.

"Well, it's that or burn to a crisp in the lava, Dean, your choice!" Sam countered.

"Alright, so how do we get down?" Dean pointed towards the bottom of the cliff.

"Oh, that's easy," Andrea stated. They turned to look at her, just in time to feel her crash into them as hard as she could. Now, normally, simple bodily force could not have toppled the two hunters. But it just so happened that they were standing one behind the other, and too close to the edge of the cliff, creating the perfect opportunity for a domino effect. So Andrea slammed into Dean, who in turn slammed into Sam, who lost his balance and all three went tumbling over the edge of the cliff.

Rolling, bouncing, sliding, and yelling all the way down, the two hunters and one mystery woman found themselves coming to an abrupt halt at the bottom of a 50 foot drop. Small rocks and shale tumbled down after them, littering their forms with bits and pieces of earth. The dust settled. Dean was the first to start moving again. He mentally checked himself for serious injury. No broken bones or concussion, as far as he could tell. Next he slowly sat up. A few bruises, but nothing too terrible. 'What about Sam?'

The automated response had him searching for his brother almost immediately.

Sam lay a few feet away on his stomach, eyes closed. "Sam?" Dean crawled to where Sam was, and checked his pulse. Sam responded to the touch with a groan. Dean let out a sigh of relief. "Anyone get the license plate of that truck that just hit me?" He moaned. Dean snorted, "You okay?"

"Yeah, and my ribs were just getting to feel better too." Sam coughed and sat up with Dean's help. "Where is that little-"

"I'm right here, and you can thank me later, cuz we have company." Andrea walked towards them, brushing mud and pebbles off of her jeans. She pointed upwards.

Sam and Dean looked towards the edge of the cliff they had just fell over. Red and yellow goo could be seen seeping over the edge. A few globs dropped a few feet from where they were, sizzling into the ground on impact. "I suggest we leave. Now!" She said.

Dean stood. He'd have to kill her later. He hauled Sam to his feet and they began to hobble off towards the other cliff as fast as possible, steadily getting faster as they went. They dodged the giant bones that lay scattered across the valley floor. "These looked smaller from up there." Dean panted as he ran. The rib cage of what appeared to be a Diplodocus or Brontosaurus was directly ahead, and the huge bones towered over the three, at least twelve feet high, if not more.

Skulls and spines of various shapes and sizes lay strewn about, out of order, as if the animals had been eaten, their bodies torn to pieces, and the bones coming to rest in haphazard patterns. However, whatever had been the cause of such a disaster was unclear, since all of the bones were bleached white, no flesh to be seen on any of them, and thus no teeth marks. Of course, it was possible they had missed some evidence, running for their lives and all.

Andrea glanced over her shoulder as she ran, suddenly wishing she hadn't. "Go faster!" She screamed. The lava had made its way down the cliff, and was now slithering towards them like a giant snake made of fire. Everything it touched burst into flame, and was consumed. Even objects ten feet away from the river of molten rock were being charred black. And it was gaining on them.

Sam and Dean both knew better than to look back, so they ploughed ahead as fast as possible. Sam's side was on fire, every breath a gasp at this point. It was only a matter of time before the pain would win out, and he would have to stop. He only hoped that that point would come after they reached the top of the other cliff.

Dean noticed the look of agony that had come to rest on his brother's face. "Come on Sammy, just a little further." He was sucking air at this point, jumping over femurs and tibias, and various other bones that managed to get in his way. At one point, they came to a series of Tyrannosaurus Rex skulls, mouths agape. They were too big to go around without wasting precious time…so they'd had to go through them. "Oh God, this feels familiar for some reason." Andrea gasped as she raced through the open jaws of the long-dead beast, remembering the feeling she always had when entering the elder's chamber. Sam and Dean just shot her a look that said her statement would need to be explained later. Finally they came to the foot of the second cliff. They came to a halt, winded and sweating buckets. The air here was unusually hot and dry, and the lava wasn't helping any. "So, how do we get up?" Dean asked between gulps of air.

"Hopefully not anything like the way we got down." Sam muttered, doubled over with his hands on his knees.

"Umm…look! Vines!" Andrea shouted, pointing to a spot on the cliff face about five feet from where they stood where a single vine had grown down to the ground.

Dean walked over and examined it for a second, "Looks sturdy enough for one at a time." He said.

"It's our only option, and we're running out of time." Sam said, staring behind them at the advancing flow of molten rock. It had reached the dinosaur rib cage, and it didn't show signs of stopping.

"Okay Sammy, you first." Dean said firmly.

"Why him?" Andrea asked, desperate to get away from the menacing lava.

"Because he's wounded, and he'll be the slowest." Dean said, motioning for Sam to climb up. Sam reluctantly grabbed the vine with both hands…this was going to be a challenge. He scooted up the vine, hand over hand, as fast as he could. When he was halfway to the top, he heard it.

A screeching noise like nothing he'd ever heard before echoed across the valley. His head snapped up, looking for the source of the sound.

"Sam! Keep moving dude, we can't come up till you're at the top!" Dean yelled. He'd heard the noise too, but frankly, he was more concerned about their impending doom as future barbeque. Sam continued upward, finally reaching the top. He hauled himself over the brink, and lay there catching his breath. He felt the vine tug as Andrea began her ascent next. Sam stood slowly, cradling his injured side, just in time to notice a humongous shadow pass over him. He looked up, as the fifty foot wingspan of a Pterodactyl filled his vision. The giant creature swooped down from one of the giant trees…

…it was headed straight for him.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The pure glee was overwhelming. Indeed, this was turning out to be much more fun than he had anticipated.

The hunters were well on their way to a mental breakdown…and possibly even death. Even the petty little summoner had been dealt with, her companion spirited away to a remote part of west Texas. That one was not his concern, however…the old one...he was something to be worried about.

He had thought it would be easy to take care of the old hunter. After all, the pitiful creature was obviously well past the age to be of any concern. At least, that was what he had thought…but now, he was beginning to wonder. The old one had shown surprising cunning in the elevator trap, breaking the illusion in a matter of minutes. He had followed the trail left behind by the younger ones quite easily, and now…now he seemed to be getting close. Too close.

It made him a little uneasy, but he was all powerful. At least, he was here. This little playground he had been let loose on was turning out all kinds of surprises for his prey, and it was delicious.

Long had he craved for the agony of men, and of hunters even more. Long had he waited for this revenge. It was too good for him to miss it by wasting time worrying over an old, out of date hunter. Perhaps the old one did know. Perhaps he was getting close, but surely he would not be able to capture him. He was sure of it…

…too sure.

Bobby was always finding new ways to be grateful for the time he had spent in Asia. He had learned much in the short while he spent in Japan, China, and even Taiwan. He was an old hunter, but he didn't let that get in the way of living.

It was something he had tried to teach the boys. Hunting shouldn't take the place of living, and Bobby feared that the Winchesters were far too eager to let it do exactly that.

In his time at the Eastern edge of the world, Bobby had learned some of the languages, as well as some of the folklore. This mystery was shaping up to be quite familiar, and it scared him. If this thing was what he suspected, it would be hard to take down. What's more, the boys could be in more trouble than he had originally thought. Bobby made his way carefully down the corridor of level eight. He had tried approximately 15 doors. All were locked. He continued to try doors, hoping that if it was an illusion, there would be some way out of it. After all, this mother was going to be hard to kill if it was the kind of being Bobby was thinking of.

An arrow, dipped in blood, shot through the creature's heart was the only way to bring it down, and that was a tall order, considering he didn't have a bow or an arrow. Bobby placed his hand on the next door handle, and immediately yanked it back. There was something white and slimy on the handle. "Gross." Bobby muttered. He was about to walk away when he heard something from inside the room…it sounded like…

"Birds?" Bobby wondered. He opened the door, careful to avoid the mucous-like substance on the handle.

Sure enough. Birds.

Bobby stood amazed as birds of every color you could think of, flitted from one end of the room to the other. Chaos…it was total chaos. Bobby ducked as he was dive-bombed by the bright little noise-makers. As he did, he noted that there were feathers of all shapes and sizes on the floor. He bent over and picked some up, examining them as he pondered how this all tied in with his theory.

"Hmmm…chaos. Fits the M.O." He said. A bright pink bird the size of a sparrow chirped loudly at him, followed by a blue parrot that squawked in his direction.

Suddenly the room got still…all of their beady bird eyes were glued to him. Bobby backed towards the door…slowly. They followed his every move. He placed his hand on the handle, keeping his back to the door. The pink sparrow fluffed up. Bobby hesitated, and then dashed out the door as fast as he could, hearing the flutter of a hundred feathered wings behind him. He slammed the door closed just in time to hear rapid staccato thuds sounding at the door, as the birds slammed into it one after the other. Bobby grimaced at the noise, and again as he noticed the white stiff on the handle…it occurred to him what exactly it might be.

"Oh, now that's just wrong." He growled, wiping his hand on his jeans for the second time.

He realized then, that he was still gripping the feathers in his other hand. Shrugging, he shoved them into his coat pocket next to the cut bindings from the closet, and began going down the hall, door to door, once more…a little more carefully this time.

Five minutes later, Bobby found that there were no other doors unlocked. Just the 'bird cage' as he had deemed it. He was reluctant to try that one again, but it seemed his only option…save the elevator, and that wasn't happening.

He sighed…'those boys had really better thank me for doing all this crap'.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"Dean, look out!" Sam screamed at the top of his lungs. He scrambled to the edge of the cliff, looking on in horror as the huge lizard made a bee line for his brother. He'd thought for sure that he was done for as soon as he had laid eyes on the gigantic winged dinosaur, but the thing had passed him by, dove straight over the edge of the cliff, and now it was headed straight for Dean.

Dean heard his brother's warning a second too late. He had been watching the advancing lava, as Andrea slowly made her way up the vine. The river of molten rock was now coming through the T-Rex skulls, and still flowing strong. His head snapped up and around at Sam's call, only to have his vision blocked by a field of leathery skin, and sharp talons.

He ducked, sure that he would end up as lunch for the very un-extinct creature, and was greeted by the sound of ripping leather as its giant claws shredded his jacket, mere centimetres from his skin. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't dead, as he heard Sam call out frantically that the beast was circling around. He rolled towards the cliff, in an attempt to make it as difficult as possible for the thing to get at him.

It screeched angrily, an awful sound that reminded Dean of a blender full of rusty nails. He cupped his hands over his ears, trying to block the sound of it. He kept his eyes on it as it circled, looking for a way to get to him. Andrea had finally reached the top of the cliff, and Sam helped her over.

"My God, I thought I was a goner." She breathed.

"We've got to help him!" Sam exclaimed, still peering over the edge at his crouching sibling.

The dinosaur landed with enough force to form a cloud of dust around itself. It seemed completely uninterested in the advancing lava. It crawled menacingly toward the hunter at the bottom of the cliff, a primeval hunger glinting brightly in its emerald green eyes…an ironic contrast to the fear that was clouding its prey's eyes of the same color.

Dean did his best to look for a way out, or something to throw, or anything to do except sit and wait for the inevitable, but there was nothing. He was stuck, wedged between a cliff face, and a hungry beast ten times his size…not to mention the still advancing river of lava. He could already feel the heat from it as it continued to ooze forward. The giant bat-like lizard growled deep in its throat, its beak clacking together hungrily.

Sam had had enough of watching, it was time for some action. He looked around frantically for something to throw down to Dean, or to drop on the creature. They were surrounded by thick forest that mirrored the other side of the valley, but it would take too much time to go searching for something in it. He needed something immediately. He glanced down again, fear causing him to tremble as he saw the beast advancing, with the lava behind it.

Andrea sat on the ground, content to feel happy that she had not been the one to get eaten.

"Andrea, help me find something…quick!" He said frantically.

"Oh, right." She said nonchalantly, not seeming to realize just how much danger the older hunter was in, and looked around her spot on the ground. Sam didn't have time to get angry with her, because if he had, he would have laid her out. But right now, he had to move.

His frantic searching yielded a set of five rocks, a few small sticks, and a rather sturdy tree limb that had broken off at a sharp angle…good enough for a spear. It would have to be good enough. He ran back to the edge of the cliff, sliding to a halt. He crouched low aiming at the creature's head. He threw a stone. It bounced off of the creatures skull, making it pause in its advance. He threw another, and another, this time shouting at the beast. He threw a few sticks…anything to get its attention.

"Are you nuts?" Andrea screeched, once she realized what he was doing. "Don't draw that thing up here!"

Sam completely ignored her, throwing his fourth stone. Finally he had its attention. Dean was yelling for him to stop, but he would be darned if he was going to just sit by and watch his brother die right in front of him.

The creature glared at the menace that was interrupting his lunch plans. "Andrea, throw the spear to Dean, while I've got its attention!" Sam shouted, without turning.

Andrea grabbed the spear, but instead of tossing it down to Dean, she turned and pointed it at Sam, "Yeah, I don't think so." Her voice had changing instantly to a dark tone Sam had not heard before.

"What? What are you doing? Throw the spear to Dean, now!" Sam shouted desperately. This was his one chance to save Dean, and it was slipping away. The lava was so close now that Dean was having a hard time breathing, and the Pterodactyl was quickly losing interest in what was going on above it.

"Sorry Sam, but I've got other plans." She spat out his name like it was a curse. His eyes pleaded with her. "What? You really thought I had forgotten everything?" She said, "I planned all this, you freaking hunter scum, it's time you just gave up and died already."

'No, this can't be happening…' Sam's thoughts were in a complete jumble. 'Of all the times for her to regain her memory, why now?'

"Andrea please!" Sam pleaded again, hoping that something would change in her. She laughed, a cackle that could have put a thousand-year-old witch to shame.

'No, not now…not like this.' Sam thought desperately.

At that moment, he heard Dean call out his name. It wasn't his brother's normally strong, commanding tone. No, this was a plea for help. A cry of desperation from someone in serious need of assistance. It was the cry of one man to the person he loved most in the world, because he was about to die.

And that was the last straw.

Something snapped in Sam. It happened all at once, and so fast that Sam couldn't remember what actually happened later. He hurled the last remaining stone, not at the giant beast on the ground, but at Andrea. He threw it with every last ounce of strength he possessed. It wasn't out of anger, he was way past angry. This force was out of pure, unchecked, calculated rage.

Fury beyond what humans should be capable of. This force came from an innermost part of Sam that he never realized existed, a part that had never been seen before by human eyes.

And the only eyes that saw it belonged to a dead woman.

As soon as the stone struck, Sam knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was dead. Were it not for her incredibly thick skull, Andrea would have had a hole completely through her forehead, but as it was, the rock only made it half way.

But that was enough.

She fell like a sack of potatoes, and Sam leapt forward, grabbing the spear from her lifeless hands before she had a chance to hit the ground. Without even thinking about what had just transpired, Sam turned on a dime and hurled the spear with equal, if not greater force than the rock had encountered.

It struck deep and true. A bulls-eye through the beasts heart.

Sam ran to the edge of the cliff, "Dean, climb the vine!" But his brother did not respond. Dean sat sprawled at the cliff base, barely able to breathe for the heat. The lava was close enough to begin burning the corpse of the Pterodactyl, and to start melting the soles of Dean's shoes.

"Dean! DEAN!" Sam yelled as loud as he could, although his voice would not carry over the bubbling roar of the molten river. Something welled inside of Sam…something he'd only felt once or twice before. He knew what was coming. This time, he didn't fight it.

There was a bright flash, and immediately, Sam could see the lava building up on itself. No longer was it advancing, but rather it began to pile on top of itself, as though an invisible wall had been set between Dean, and the lava. It continued to flow, but now it was in a vertical fashion, creating literally, a wall of lava less than fifteen feet from where Dean sat. Sam knew he was doing it…somehow. He didn't know how. He didn't care. All that mattered was that Dean was still alive.

Sam grabbed the vine, still concentrating on keeping the lava from reaching Dean. He shimmied down the cliff face in record time. He too could feel the heat rising from the molten rock, but was too busy hauling Dean back up the rope, firemen style, to care much.

When he reached the top, he let Dean's body topple from his shoulder onto the ground, crawling to lie beside him. He checked Dean's pulse. It was there, and that was enough.

And then, darkness engulfed him before he had a chance to realize it.

When the earthquake came, Bobby was in the middle of trying to keep his eyes in their sockets.

After finding that there were no other unlocked doors, rather than chance the elevator again, he decided to try his chances in the bird room once more. He had entered, expecting to see birdie corpses around the door, where they had surely broken their necks trying to get to him earlier.

He was wrong.

Every last bird in the place, and then some, was still well, alive, and kicking. Well okay, pecking…and squawking, and doing everything else they could to drive Bobby insane.

They did not attack him, as he had expected, but rather, were content to keep him from finding anything of use in the whole blasted room. He had tried drawers, and closets, and everything else he could think of to find a clue to breaking the illusion, but had come up decidedly empty. Especially since the birds would become hostile whenever he would even attempt to open the drawers and closets and such. It was a real headache.

But suddenly, the pecking and squawking stopped, as all his avian buddies became rather still. Almost as if they were listening to something. And then the room began to shake.

Suddenly the ground was no longer stable, and the birds were panicked, flying every which way in simple crazed hysteria.

Bobby moved to a central doorway, where he braced himself against the frame. Mirrors fell off the walls and shattered. Lamps broke into pieces. The lights flickered. All the normal things you might expect in an ordinary earthquake began to happen.

Except this was no ordinary earthquake, because then the walls began to shimmer and warp. The floor began to undulate, like the muscles beneath a snake's skin as it moves. The ceiling began to swirl around, like a vortex.

"Oh, that's never good." Bobby muttered, still hanging on for dear life.

Now, Bobby knew from experience, that whenever you were dealing with the evil side of the supernatural realm, things never ever go the way they are supposed to. It's the same principle as the ignorant pirate that thinks "x" really does mark the spot. It just never happens that way.

However, on this day, Bobby found a new respect for the phrase "once in a blue moon".

On this day, the vortex on the ceiling yielded an unexpected turn of events. Because, on this day, "x" really did mark the spot. And the spot happened to be about two feet from where Bobby stood, onto which the vortex dumped two twenty-something boys, whom just happened to be Sam and Dean Winchester. At the same time, every bird in the room went screeching into the vortex and were swallowed by it.

The earthquake ended, the vortex disappeared, and there they were. The very two that he had been searching for this whole time, dumped, unconscious, literally at his feet.

He knelt quickly to make sure they were still alive. He turned Sam over, who had been lying on his stomach. There was a small trickle of blood coming from his nose, and Bobby found the large bruise on his side, indicating the injured ribs underneath. Other than that the youngest Winchester seemed to be fine.

Next, he turned his attention to the older hunter. He placed his fingers on Dean's neck, and then immediately jerked them away. "Good Lord, Dean! You're burnin' up, son." He said. He carefully rolled the unconscious hunter onto his side, and gasped as he encountered three 12 inch long gashes down the back of his jacket.

It looked like it had been done by an impossibly large animal of some kind. Bobby was relieved to find no blood seeping through the torn material, and could find no other injuries on the man except for minor scrapes and bruises.

"Sam! Dean! Come on, you two, wake up!" He called, shaking them by their shoulders.

Dean groaned, muttering something about burning alive. Bobby knit his eyebrows together, looking up to where the hotel bathroom was situated. He quickly got up and ran into the bathroom, soaking a wash cloth in cold water. He returned as fast as he could, and placed the cloth on Dean's forehead. Dean shied away from it to begin with, but soon accepted the ministration. He groaned again and blinked open his eyes. He looked around in confusion, before finally registering who it was that knelt over him.

"Bobby, 's that you?" He said, sounding fearful, as though afraid that his eyes were tricking him…again.

"Yeah, kiddo, it's me. What in the blazes happened?" The older man asked.

Dean's eyelids fluttered, "'M not sure…dinosaurs." Suddenly, Dean's eyes popped wide open, as he tried to sit up, "Where's Sam?"

"I'm right here." Sam muttered, scrunching his eyes closed and placing a hand on his forehead. "And could you please use your inside voice, Dean? My brain is trying to implode, if you don't mind."

Bobby chuckled a little to himself. Some things never change. "So what's this about dinosaurs?" He asked, a little afraid of the answer.

"That's what we…where…when we were." Sam corrected himself. He was having a hard time concentrating through the headache. "Yeah, we went from being trapped in the elevator with a ton of freezing water, to being in a frozen wasteland of nothing but

snow-" Dean began.

"Snow that makes you drunk." Sam interjected.

"-to being transported to the freakin' 'Jurassic Park', with lava and dinosaurs, and…" Dean paused in his rant. "Hey Sam…where's Andrea?"

Sam froze. The image of Andrea keeling over backward with a fist sized stone stuck in her forehead flashed in his mind. "Uh, dude? Andrea…is dead." He said finally.

"Andrea? The librarian?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, she's the librarian all right. The little evil librarian that started all this mess. She's in some kind of secret order to protect the Chupa-" Dean interrupted himself this time, "Sam, what do you mean she's dead?"

"She's dead, dude. She died right before the Pterodactyl did. Not much to tell." Sam muttered, wanting nothing more than to change the conversation to something else. "Say, hadn't we better be getting out of here?" He said.

"A Terra-whatta? Is that what that thing is called?" Dean wondered.

Bobby rolled his eyes. He'd heard enough. "Right boys, Sam has a point. We're in a bit of a spot here." He helped the hunters to their feet. "I think we've been dealing with a Hundun this whole time." He said.

"A what?" Sam asked.

Dean raised his eyebrows. He didn't think that there where many Supernatural things that Sam hadn't heard of before, what with the amount of time that kid put into researching.

"A Hundun. It's a Chinese god of chaos. Some of 'em are good, but most of 'em ain't. The number fourteen came up…an ancient number for seriously bad luck in Asian lore. It's often associated with the work of a Hundun." Bobby went on.

"Umm, okay…" Sam said, "well, how are we supposed to kill it?"

"That's the hard part, boys. We need an arrow dipped in blood. Lore says you have to shoot the dang thing in the heart with one of 'em in order to kill it. Trouble is, they have no eyes, no ears, and no reference point." Bobby said solemnly.

"So…" Dean said, not understanding the problem.

"Meaning, Dean, that even if we can find the thing, basically, we'll be shooting blind. We won't know where to aim." Bobby said a little gruffly. It had been a long day.

"Right, so we need an arrow, a bow, and some blood?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, and we need to find this sucker before he separates us again." Sam added. It was a very valid point, since apparently the whole apartment complex was this things playground.

"Okay, well, we have blood, that's not a problem. What else do we have to work with?" Dean asked. He emptied his pockets: One useless compass and his leaf-blade. Sam followed suit: Several green sapling sticks, about 6 inches long each, and his cell phone, which was also useless. And lastly, Bobby: Four pieces of rope, a small charcoal pencil, and a handful of feathers. The three men looked at each other.

Amazingly, they had just the things for a makeshift bow and arrow.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

This was it. The ultimate test.

He knew when the summoner had died, that he had underestimated them.

They had proven themselves resourceful in various situations, and had been resilient far longer than expected.

These hunters were different from the rest.

He was certain that they would be finished in the last trap he had made for them, but an unexpected turn of events had occurred.

The youngest one had…abilities. Unnatural abilities at that. Unnatural, and incredibly powerful, even beyond what the youngest one knew, it would seem.

It frightened him. Of all the things he had expected, that was not one of them. And now the hunters were together, and relatively unharmed. They had what they needed to destroy him, but he was still confident of one thing. They would still have to find him first.

And then he heard the words…

"Alright, the arrow is finished." Sam called. He had just finished placing the last feather on the end of the shaft. Dean's leaf-blade had made a nice arrow head, and one of Sam's sticks had been the perfect length to make the shaft body. He laid the weapon down, carefully. It would be just his luck to break the darn thing before they even got a chance to use it.

"Okay, the bow still needs some tweaking, but I think it'll do in a pinch." Bobby said, pulling experimentally on the bow string that he had fashioned from twining the rope fibers together. The other sticks from Sam's pockets had been tied together and then wrapped in leather strips from Dean's torn jacket. It wasn't first class, but it would do.

Dean walked out of the bathroom, draping pieces of his t-shirt around his hands. "Got the blood." He stated, holding a small bowl with a shallow pool of blood in the bottom. He placed it on the bed and continued to wrap the make-shift bandage around his hand. Sam winced a little, glancing at his brother's hand. "You know Dean, that pretty much makes it impossible for you to shoot that thing." He said, motioning to the bow in Bobby's hands.

Dean looked from his hand to Dean looked from his hand to the bow. "Well, I was never as good with a bow anyway." He muttered, remembering the many frustrating hours he'd spent bow hunting with his father.

"Well, I can shoot fairly well, but I'm really better with a gun." Sam admitted, remembering the stone sailing through the air towards Angela, and he shuddered "Or a knife."

"Alright, you sissies, I'll shoot, but that's all null and void if we can't find the darn thing." Bobby groused. They had been theorizing about how to find the Hundun, but so far, the best idea had come from Bobby. He had suggested using an ancient Chinese summoning ritual, but warned that these particular creatures usually became hostile towards their summoner immediately after appearing.

"It's not like we want to have tea with the thing, so let's just summon it and kill it. Case closed." Dean said.

'Typical' Sam thought.

"I'm inclined to agree, Dean, but this isn't just your average run-of-the-mill spirit. This ain't no low class demon we're talkin' about. The Hundun is a deity, and a pretty powerful one at that. It makes tricksters seem nice." Bobby stated.

Dean noticed a cold look pass over Sam's face. His eyes suddenly became clouded at the mention of the powerful creature. They had encountered a trickster twice before, and the second time had left scars, specifically in Sam. Dean couldn't really remember much of what had happened, but he'd noticed a change in Sam after that.

It bothered Dean. A lot.

"Yeah, alright, but this fugly mother has thoroughly ticked me off at this point. We're hungry, and we're tired. I want a freakin' burger, a shower, and a bed…in that order. So let's just kill it already!" Dean urged.

Bobby shot Sam an exasperated look, to which Sam could only shrug. Dean was going to be Dean, no matter what. No changing that.

Bobby sighed. "Okay then, let's at least test this thing and make sure it's sharp enough first, huh?" He held the bow and arrow in the air. The boys nodded their agreement. The trio of hunters went out into the hall, checking that no-one was there, and making sure to stay as close together as comfortably possible. Now was not a good time to go missing.

Bobby set up another chair at one end of the hall. He took his pocket knife and carved an "x" in the back of it. He nodded to Sam, who stood at a good distance. Sam cocked the arrow into the makeshift bow, raising it and pulling it taught so that the feathers rested just below his right eye. He kept both eyes open, and aimed at the center of the "x". He released the arrow.

It shot from the bow with a whizzing noise, the bow string making a strange *twang* as it slid from Sam's fingers.

*Thunk*

Bobby examined the chair. The arrow had landed dead center, and struck deep. He gave the boys a thumbs-up sign. "That's some fine archery there Sam."

Dean patted Sam on the back, "Atta boy, Sammy!"

Sam gave a sheepish grin, "Yeah, well, the chair wasn't trying to eat me."

"It'll be good enough. Let's summon this sucker." Bobby stated flatly. He gently pulled the arrow loose, and handed it back to Sam.

They walked to a part of the hallway that had no carpeting. Bobby pulled out the charcoal pencil from his jacket pocket and crouched down. He started drawing strange symbols on the ground in a circular pattern. The boys had never seen symbols like these, since they weren't the normal Latin symbols used for most rituals.

Sam studied them carefully. He realized that the symbols were ancient Chinese characters. He couldn't read them, but he could sure memorize them. You never know when you might need to know something like that, especially with the line of work they were in.

Bobby finished his work in silence, and the two younger hunters stayed out of his way. It was usually best to stay out of Bobby's way when he was working, unless he was in a certain mood.

"Alright, here Sam, read this." Bobby handed Sam a piece of paper that he had taken from the bird room, which had words scribbled all over it. "Dean, hold this." He said, handing the charcoal pencil to Dean. Dean gave him a strange look, but said nothing. Bobby turned to Sam, "Hand me that arrow, will ya?" He asked, taking it from the youngest hunter. "Hold that pencil up straight, Dean. It's not the ideal candle, but it'll burn." He said. Dean did as he was told. Bobby took a lighter from his pocket and held the flame against the pencil, the wood and charcoal lighting up easily. Bobby took his pocket knife and struck the blade against the arrow head, causing a small spark. Three more tries, and the "candle" was lit.

Bobby continued, "Dean you stand on that side, and Sam, you stand over there." Bobby motioned for them to get into place. They complied quickly. "I'll be right back." He said. He disappeared for a moment into the room they had come from, and when he reappeared, the arrow tip shone bright red with the blood that Dean had supplied and left in a jar in the bathroom.

Bobby took the bow from Sam, and positioned himself a few paces away from the circle. He aimed the makeshift weapon towards the center of the ellipse, where the creature should appear. He nodded to Sam, who began to speak the words on the paper out loud.

As Sam's voice floated through the air, all three hunters tensed as the atmosphere began to feel thicker. The area inside of the circle began to get visibly distorted, as the form of the creature began to take shape.

Suddenly a voice, cracked with age, cut through Sam's recital, breaking the continuous summoning, "Stop!"

The startled hunters whirled around to see who had interrupted their activities, and where surprised to see an old man standing in the open doorway, stooped with age, wearing a scarlet robe.

He held a gun in his hand.

It was aimed at Sammy.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"Sam, keep reading." Bobby growled, not taking his eyes off the man. Sure enough, this was the man he had seen outside the lobby's rear entrance.

Sam looked from Bobby to Dean, and then back at the paper in his hand. He slowly began to recite the rest of the words.

The old man cocked the little pistol in his hand, "I said stop, or I will shoot him." He said. He seemed sincere.

"Whoa, whoa…alright. Just take it easy, mister." Dean said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. There was something amiss about the old man, but Dean couldn't quite put his finger on exactly what it was. Whatever it was, the stooped old fool was pointing a gun at his brother, so right now, to him, it wasn't that important.

"It's alright Sam, keep reading." Bobby said. Both boys shot him disbelieving stares. He was still looking directly at the old man.

"Uhh, Bobby?" Sam said hesitantly. The gun was loaded, and cocked, and aimed. What was Bobby thinking?

Bobby lowered the bow just long enough to motion silently for Sam to move quietly around the edge of the circle towards Dean, "I said it's alright boy, he's bluffing."

Bobby kept his voice even, not wanting to give anything away.

Sam gave him a strange look, but slowly inched his way towards Dean.

"I am not, I'll shoot him, I swear. That creature must not be summoned again!" The old man screeched. His age was impossible to guess, but Dean would have estimated the guy was somewhere around a century old. He held the gun shakily in his left hand.

Dean cast Bobby a concerned look, and Bobby motioned for him to look again at the threatening figure that stood near in the door frame.

Dean transferred his attention back to the man with the gun, and was surprised to find that the old codger was continuing to aim at the spot where Sam had originally stood.

Dean looked harder, and an understanding grin spread across his face.

The man was blind.

Sam had noticed the oddity at the same time, paying close attention to the exchange between brother and friend. He decided it was time for some distraction.

"Bobby, what are you, nuts?" he said, a little louder than necessary. "The man has a gun, can't you see that?"

Bobby took his cue, "Now, listen here, boy, you do as I say!"

"No way, you crazy old fool!"

"Crazy old fool? Now wait just a minute, you little snot nosed brat, I won't have none of that!"

Dean let them continue insulting each other as he crept closer and closer to the old man, being careful to make no noise, as surely, if the man was blind, his hearing would be better than most. Finally, the scarlet-robed figure had had enough of the exchange.

"Silence, you morons! I've heard enough! Now get down on the-"

Dean grabbed the old man's wrist with his right hand, and forced it away from the trio, simultaneously landing an uppercut to the man's jaw with his left.

*POW*

Another sound resounded in the enclosed area loud enough to make their ears ring. The bullet ricocheted off of the wall, and embedded itself in the wall on the opposite side of the room.

The old man lay limp on the floor, not even having heard the sound of the gun going off.

Dean turned to his two companions, who both wore looks of relief on their faces. He grinned, "Snot nosed brat? Is that the best you could come up with Bobby?"

Bobby scowled at his young friend, "Oh, I could've come up with a lot worse if it'd been you I was talkin' to."

Sam chuckled. A moment later he was once again reciting the words on the paper, Dean had retrieved his still burning candle from the ground, and Bobby was again aiming the arrow at the centre of the circle.

The distortion in the centre began to take more of a defined shape. It was beginning to look more and more like a giant blue egg. The boys cast puzzled glances at each other, but Bobby's eyes remained glued to the spot.

Sam finished the ritual, and the form solidified. Immediately, the room began to swirl around them. The paint on the walls changed randomly from grey, to pink, to yellow, to turquoise. The building began to warp around them, walls melting into each other, the floor shifting beneath their feet. Angles turned sharply, and perspective lost meaning, as close objects suddenly appeared much farther away, and distant objects appeared too close for comfort.

Sam and Dean flung their arms out in an attempt to keep their balance as their surroundings fell to pieces. Sam closed his eyes, trying to block the nauseating effect of the random color changes. He heard Dean calling to Bobby, but his friend did not answer.

Sam felt himself hit the floor, and it curled around him, pulling him in, suffocating him.

He tried to open his mouth to scream, but there was no air for his lungs to use. He heard the thud of the arrow. Heard the screams of his brother…his friend…his mind.

Their world was crumbling around them, their hopes caving in on themselves. Their lives were ending. And he could not stop it. Could not save them.

He had failed again…failed for the last time.

Sam lost consciousness, his mind losing the battle with the darkness, his thoughts of failure his only company.

The deep black that surrounded him thinned to grey. There was something familiar here.

Not a sound…not a feeling…it was…a smell? Yes, that was it. A scent. The scent of leather. What else? Was there more?

Yeah, there it was…leather…and denim. Gun polish too…and…hamburgers?

"Sammy? Can you hear me?"

Whoa! Smell and sound now. There was something so familiar, so…comfortable about that sound. What was it…a voice? Yes, a voice. A deep, friendly, concerned voice. He knew that voice.

It came with a feeling.

"Sam? Open your eyes bro, nap time's over."

A feeling? A feeling indeed! Safety, comfort, happiness, love.

The grey thinned further until he was surrounded with white.

No more darkness, but light instead. Blinding light.

He blinked. The light faded to a comfortable level. He looked around. No more grey-green walls, no steel doors or snow or revolting colors or warped floors suffocating him.

"Where are we?" Sam said quietly, hoping that the walls would continue to hold their shape.

Dean grinned, and leaned back, "Home sweet home!" He said, spreading his arms wide. Sam blinked again, and looked up at Dean, who was sitting beside him on the bed.

"Home?" The word sounded unfamiliar…distant even.

He started to try and sit up, but Dean placed a hand on his chest to gently restrain the movement, "Not yet, Sammy. Give those ribs a break, huh?"

Sam laid back down, glad to be able to rest on purpose for once. "We're in a hotel?" He asked.

"Nope, you're about sixty miles from the nearest hotel." Bobby said, entering the room with a tray piled high with sandwiches. Dean's face lit up at the sight of food.

Sam sighed, "Good. I don't want to see another hotel or apartment or anything anytime soon."

Dean chuckled at that, "Yeah, me neither." he said, around a mouthful of ham and cheese.

"So…I guess you got it?" Sam asked slowly, looking at Bobby. Bobby and Dean exchanged glances.

"Uh, well…not exactly." Bobby said, scratching his beard.

"So it's still alive!" Sam asked, nearly sitting up again. Dean, placed a restraining hand on his brother again, "Sam." He said, a friendly warning in his tone.

Sam reluctantly eased back down a second time.

Dean answered the question. "Actually, it was the old dude dressed up in the red dress that killed the darn thing…believe it or not."

Sam stared up at his brother. Surely he was joking.

"No, it's true." Bobby said, noticing the look. He sat down in a chair at the foot of Sam's bed. "When the Hundun appeared, it started doing exactly what it's best at…causing chaos. I had it right there in my sights, but when the floor started moving, I lost my grip on the bow. The arrow went flyin' right past it, and landed in the wall near the elevator and the unconscious guy." Bobby frowned. He didn't much like it when he missed. Dean offered a sandwich to Sam, who turned it down. Dean shrugged and continued to munch happily as Bobby went on.

"Well, after that, things got pretty hairy. You were being swallowed by the floor, and Dean wasn't far behind you. I lost my footing and darn near knocked my head off fallin' over a desk that came from God knows where."

Dean snorted at the memory of the experienced hunter's feet flying over his head, but quickly turned to taking over the explanation when Bobby's glare started burning a hole through his skull. "Yeah, so anyway, I figured we were done for, and then here comes this blind old coot. He yanks the arrow out of the wall somehow, and then runs screaming towards the giant blue-egg-thing. He stabs the thing dead centre, and then…poof!" Dean's hands flew into the air, bits of the sandwich he was holding came loose and landed in Sam's hair. _"Dean."_ Sam said, brushing the crumbs from his bangs in annoyance. Dean continued without pausing. "There we were, in the parking lot! No cars, no people, no bodies…and no apartment complex. Like it was never there!" He said.

Bobby huffed, "You were out cold, so I went to get the car out of the impound, and we came straight back here to my house. You were flat out for the whole thing." He said. Bobby groaned as he stood back up. "Anyway, you two chill out for a second, and I'm goin' back downstairs to beat some more records."

Sam gave Dean a puzzled look, who was busy glaring at Bobby's back as he left. "Beat my records my foot." He muttered.

"So…what about the Chupacabra?" Sam asked hesitantly. The last thing he wanted to do was go back to Ohio, but that creature was still loose. Dean stretched as he got off of the bed, and reached for another sandwich. "Bobby knew some hunters in the area that had some experience with cults and stuff. Figured we'd had enough hunting for one trip, and I figured he was right." He turned to see Sam studying the ceiling.

"Yeah, I guess so." Sam said quietly.

Dean sighed. He knew where this was going. "What is it?" He asked, knowing that Sam was being weighed down by something. His tender hearted younger brother had a tendency to be a deep thinker. He cared just a little too much sometimes…it was one of the things that Dean secretly admired about his doe-eyed sibling. Like always knowing exactly what to say to make others feel better, no matter what they had just been through, or the way that he held on to a hope for a better life even through all the hopelessness they faced day in and day out. It was one of those things that made Sam who he was.

It was just one of those things.

Sam didn't answer right away. He never did. "Dean…hunts like that. I mean…we've had some close calls, but that..." He shook his head. "That thing was in total control…of everything. It all seemed so real. I don't know, it just makes me wonder if we really know what real is, you know?"

Dean thought for a moment. He went over the things that he and Sam had been through in the last two days. It seemed so much longer than that, but the reality was that they had only been stuck in that mad house for 24 hours.

"Sam…I know what you mean. I really do. But, that thing never had control over us. It never had control over our actions. Sure, it warped reality, and it changed what we could see…and there were even times when I think it messed with out minds…our thoughts." He paused, wondering whether the voice he'd heard in the closet was an illusion, or if it had really been John. He went on, "But the fact is, even through all that, we stuck together. And we made it."

They looked at each other solemnly. Sam knew he was right. Through all of it, never once had the creature been able to tear them apart. They had quarrelled a little, as brothers will, and they had faced a few of their own personal demons. But never once had they turned on each other. And they had made it.

Dean walked over to the bedside, and handed his brother a sandwich, who took it this time. Sam gave him a half-grin, still sifting through the feelings. Dean ruffled his hair, just to annoy him, and then turned to leave so his brother could rest.

He paused, framed in the doorway. Giving Sam his patented sparkling smile, he spoke gently, "That's what's real."

And then he was gone.

Sam sat quietly, listening to the sound of Dean's footsteps retreating down the stairs. Once again, his often irritating, but always rock steady brother had been able to answer a question that would have driven Sam crazy thinking about it. And he had answered it in that incredibly simple, yet profound way that made Dean who he was…something which Sam had secretly marvelled at ever since he could remember.

He sighed. It was one of the many things about Dean that Sam wished he could learn, but knew that it came with being an older brother. Kind of like knowing exactly how to make Sam smile, even if it was in the middle of a tragedy, or knowing exactly what to say to make Sam feel calm, even if it was in the middle of the Apocalypse. It wasn't just being the older brother…it was being Dean.

It was just one of those things.

Sam shrugged and smiled, closing his eyes. He chuckled softly to himself as he heard the sound of Dean and Bobby bickering over who held the record for fastest tire change.


	19. Epilogue

Epilogue

Somewhere in west Texas….

Two men sat silently on the roadside, both sweating profusely in the hot Texan sun. The wind kicked up the sand around them, and a tumbleweed the size of a large dog slowly bounced by, the only vegetation for miles.

There was no sound, no buildings, and no cars. Just two men sitting in the sand by the far-stretching roadside.

The older of the two, stooped with age, stared blankly out at the vast nothingness before them, his blind eyes taking nothing in.

The younger one turned to him.

"This changes nothing. We can still win."

The ancient man waited. He knew it must be said.

"On the contrary, Shane, this changes everything." He craned his neck to turn his sightless eyes on the young man.

"Now, they're stronger."


End file.
